


never gonna dance again

by togetherwecouldbealright



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Ballet, Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Bottom Harry, Espionage, F/M, Fluff, Frottage, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Rimming, Secret Intelligence Service | MI6, Smut, Top Louis, will I ever write a normal fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-10 14:24:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 55,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5589508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/togetherwecouldbealright/pseuds/togetherwecouldbealright
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i> Harry is quiet for a moment and his fingers feel like they’re burning past the fabric of Louis’ jumper, branding his skin. “Can I kiss you?"</i>
</p><p>
  <i>This is where Louis should walk away and leave Harry to pirouette and cambré by himself in the faint moonlight shining through the windows. He is a spy and Harry is a dancer. There are lines that should not be crossed.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Louis surges forward. </i>
</p><p>Louis is a spy and Harry is a dancer. The only real thing they know is each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	never gonna dance again

**Author's Note:**

> So this fic is completely self-indulgent and should've been finished months ago but instead, I abandoned it for four months and then decided to write the last 30k in the last week so... happy New Year? (#harrylouyear)
> 
> Thank you as always to my beta Holly who has saved my life more times than I can count and is the best person in this world for putting up with me when I randomly spring thousands of words of fic on her in the middle of the night. Another thank you to Karen who helped me figure out what this fic was and where this fic was heading and thank you to Zahra for actually getting me to write the damned thing. #wethebest <3
> 
> Sorry to Olly Alexander whom I told that I was writing a book off his song and instead wrote this fic. I hope he never finds out about this. I sincerely apologize, Olly. On that note, this fic is based off Years & Years' song Ties which you should all listen to because literally one line of this fic produced a 50k+ fic.
> 
> A last thank you to everyone else who held my hand as I wrote this and let me whinge on and on (and trust me, there was a lot of whinging). You all rock and I love you.
> 
> Hope everyone enjoys!

_You’re a dancer._

_Well, I’m a spy._

_It’s so beautiful to see you lie._

_Are you having fun?_

_-*-_

_Did it all get too real for you?_

[Ties](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r3nertWi_Mg), Years & Years

✿ ✿ ✿

“What do you know about dancing?”

Louis Tomlinson’s head snaps up from where he’s sketching a skull onto a napkin. The sharpie marker clatters onto the desk in front of him as he takes in the man that’s standing in front of his desk.

He’s tall with a buzz cut and deep brown eyes. His thick eyebrows are raised in question and he’s staring at Louis with a contemplative expression. His name is Liam Payne and he’s Louis’ best friend.

Louis didn’t hear him come in but then again, he supposes if he had then Liam wouldn’t be very good at his job.

“Not very much,” Louis admits slowly, tilting his head. “I know a little from when my sisters used to take free ballet classes at school.”

Liam hums, leaning against the doorway. “Good enough for me. Pack your bags, we’re going to London.”

✿ ✿ ✿

“Alexander Sharpe?”

The words are expected but Louis pretends to be startled anyways, looking up with practiced wide eyes. “Yes?”

He’s not sure if the woman is buying his act because her face is carefully blank as she flips over a paper on her clipboard. “You’re here for the dancing instructor job?”

Louis nods, adjusting his tie before getting to his feet. He’s wearing a fitted suit that Liam forced him into buying and it’s more than a little uncomfortable. “That’s me,” he replies, offering her his most beatific smile.

She doesn’t so much as blink before turning around and walking down a hallway. Louis assumes he’s meant to follow so he does, making sure his footsteps are as loud as her heels clacking on the marble floor.

They walk until they reach a lift and the woman presses the button before her gaze falls to her clipboard, eyes trailing over the words.

Louis inches imperceptibly closer and reads over her shoulder, skimming through it quickly. Once he realizes it’s just a list of names, including his fake one, he takes a small step backwards and looks in the other direction.

He can still see the waiting room they left behind. There are about five other men and ten women who are sitting there, dripping with anxiety. Of them, Louis is probably the calmest and it’s because he has the least riding on the line.

Or perhaps the most.

Still, Louis has never felt the pressure to do well the way these people undoubtedly have. Louis has always known dancing to be a difficult profession and he knows these people must have worked years upon years for even a chance to be considered to work at the most elite dance school in all of Britain.

He almost feels bad knowing he’s going to be the one to walk away with the job.

The lift comes a moment later and Louis follows the woman inside and stays silent until they reach the third floor where the lift opens again to reveal a blond man.

“Melissa,” the man greets, smiling cheekily.

Louis watches as the woman’s blank façade cracks and she smiles back. “Niall,” she replies, nodding her head in greeting. She gestures towards the ballet flats in his left hand. “Off to practice?”

“Sadly,” replies Niall, sighing before his eyes fall on Louis. “Who’s this?”

Melissa turns her own eyes towards Louis before she shrugs. “Just one of the blokes that Vlasov is interviewing for the temporary dancing instructor position. Remember, Greg broke his leg?”

Niall winces sympathetically and nods. “Hard to forget that.”

For a second Louis is curious but he tampers it down quickly as Melissa murmurs a quick goodbye to Niall before brushing past him into the hallway. Louis is quick to slip out of the lift after her, not bothering to cast a cursory glance around him as Niall disappears behind the lift doors.

They walk down the hallway, past a few more men and women. Louis hasn’t seen any children but he knows they’re somewhere in the building.

When Liam briefed him on Walsh’s Ballet School, Louis didn’t pay much attention but from what he did hear, he knows that it’s one of the most prestigious dancing schools in the country and they only take in orphans under the age of ten and then raise them while teaching them the art of dance.

Those who work at the school are picked from the best dancers in the world and it’s near impossible to even land an interview. Yet here Louis is, not having danced a single step in his twenty-three years, sitting in the office of some Russian bloke who’s reviewing his fake résumé.

“You’ve been dancing since you were four years old?” asks Adrian Vlasov and his grey eyes are sharp as he sizes Louis up.

“Yes,” Louis says, nodding. “My mum was a dancer too.” It’s a lie. His mum is a nurse who barely had the time to put food on the table, much less afford to put him in dance classes. His sisters got lucky when their primary school offered classes for free.

“Interesting,” Adrian says, lowering his gaze back to the piece of paper in front of him. “And you attended Cowell’s Dance School for Adolescents?”

“Yes,” Louis repeats, a small smile on his face. He is actually well acquainted with Simon Cowell from a different mission and he knows Simon will easily cover for him, especially since Liam has already informed him of their current situation.

“You’re aware that this job is temporary until our old dancing instructor returns, correct?” Adrian asks, reaching up and fixing his fringe. He doesn’t look all that much older than Louis and he talks with a slight Russian accent. Louis makes a mental note to tell Liam to look into him.

Louis nods, launching into what he rehearsed with Liam. “Working here would be an honor, no matter how short-lived.”

The room that they’re in has a window facing out from the front of the building, showing a highly populated downtown London. Something about the location of the dance school makes Louis feel really skittish. He drums his fingers against his thigh.

“It says here that you’ve won various competitions and are highly renowned in Manchester’s dancing community,” Adrian reads, sounding impressed and catching Louis’ attention from where he’s cataloguing their surroundings.

Liam must’ve done a really good job at forging his résumé but then again, that’s no surprise. Liam has always taken his job more seriously than Louis.

Louis laughs, shaking his head bashfully, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling crawling beneath his skin. “I don’t like to brag.”

“Well you should,” Adrian retorts, raising an eyebrow. “Why did you decide to stop dancing and start teaching it instead?”

This is another question Louis expected and practiced with Liam. “There’s something so _pure_ about being able to share your passions with others, you know? I’ve never been one to show off as I’ve already said… Rather, I’m quite the people person and to be with a group of people and to help them excel in what they love is something I’ve always found to be amazing.” It’s not a complete lie. There was a time when Louis wanted to be a drama teacher.

The best lies are always the one that stick closest to the truth. That’s a lesson Louis learned early on.

Adrian nods before tilting his head, eyes observing Louis intently as he asks, “Why did you decide to apply to Walsh’s Ballet School?”

Louis takes a deep breath—an unnecessary one, but it helps him to feel more at peace with the character he’s playing. “The idea of teaching orphans who once had nothing but now have an intense passion for dancing really speaks to me. I think what Walsh is doing is really extraordinary, giving these children a life they never dreamed of. To be a part of something that inspiring and charitable would be a dream come true. It’s not about the prestige of the school for me; it’s about helping these dancers grow and make the best of their lives.”

Adrian seems pleased with his answer and he nods again. “Well thank you coming in for this interview, Mr. Sharpe.”

“It was my pleasure,” Louis concludes, standing up and leaning over the desk to shake Adrian’s hand. His eyes catch on a tiny red mark on the inside of Adrian’s wrist, a small crescent moon. He doesn’t comment on it though.

Instead, he shakes Adrian’s hand firmly and offers him one more smile before leaving.

Once he exits the building, he feels like he can breathe again. Louis has always hated going undercover because a certain part of him feels like he’s trapped in another world and that one day he might lose himself.

He wraps his jacket tighter around himself and crosses the street. Today is not that day.

It takes him ten minutes to get to the flat he and Liam are renting under the name Alexander Sharpe. It’s not in the best area but it was easy to get with little to no identification required. Given, Liam could’ve whipped up a batch of fake IDs legitimate enough to fool the Prime Minister but they were short on time.

“Honey, I’m home!” Louis hollers obnoxiously, toeing off his shoes as he enters the flat. He receives no response but he can hear Liam typing away in the living room so he doesn’t worry.

Louis reaches up and tugs at his tie until it loosens and then slips it off his neck, slinging it over his shoulder as he walks further into the flat.

He finds Liam sitting on the couch, with two laptops on either side of him and one on his lap. Louis raises an eyebrow and prays that no one tries to rob them at any point during their stay here.

“How did it go?” Liam asks without looking up, eyes focused on the words in front of him. Louis has never been an expert at the technical business of being a secret agent and it’s probably why he doesn’t understand the programming that’s in front of Liam right now.

“Good,” Louis says, flopping down onto their loveseat. He stretches his legs out over the seat handle before continuing, “I think the bloke interviewing me liked me well enough.”

Liam looks up at that, tilting his head. “Who was it that ended up interviewing you? Was it Walsh himself?”

“No. The bloke’s name was Adrian Vlasov,” Louis answers and then cuts in before Liam can interrupt him with his confused pout. “Yes, I know. I checked on my phone. There’s no Adrian Vlasov registered for Walsh’s Ballet School. I was going to ask you to look him up.”

Before he finishes his sentence, Liam is already typing into his laptop, a concentrated look on his face. It takes him two minutes before he leans back with a bemused expression. “There’s no Adrian Vlasov in London.”

Louis tilts his head thoughtfully. “He was Russian,” he adds, trying to think about what else might help identify him. “Didn’t look much older than me. Had some weird red tattoo on his wrist.”

Liam frowns. “I’ll dig into it later,” he eventually decides before placing his laptop to the side and getting to his feet. “Want tea?”

“Please,” Louis groans, eyes fluttering shut. “I hate going undercover.”

If Liam replies, it’s lost in the sound of pots clattering and the kettle whistling.

Meeting Liam was luck on Louis’ part. He’s lucky to have a found a best friend in a profession where friends aren’t technically allowed.

Liam used to be a stickler for rules but Louis likes to think he’s changed Liam for the better. The agency would probably beg to differ but Louis could care less about their opinion.

Most people that know who Louis is wouldn’t expect him to be a secret agent. They’d say he’s not serious enough and Louis would be inclined to agree.

When he was eighteen, Louis fucked up a little. Or rather, he fucked up a lot. He had a lot of pride and he was really stubborn and didn’t spend much, if any, time considering the consequences of his actions.

If he’s honest, he’s still like that to a degree.

The difference is he’s not storming out of his mum’s house, yelling about independence and being locked up in a hellhole (that _definitely_ wasn’t his best move).

He ended up in Manchester, in a flat shittier than the one he’s currently living in, and involving himself with people he really should’ve thought twice about. That’s how he ended up with the Secret Intelligence Service or what’s more commonly known as Military Intelligence, Section 6—MI6.

There’s more to the story but Louis hasn’t ever told anyone the rest and even thinking about it is hard for him sometimes. Maybe one day he’ll settle down and he’ll tell someone everything and they’ll tell him that he’s fucked up but they’ll love him anyways.

Today is also not that day.

Louis takes a deep breath before rolling off the couch and heading towards his box of a room. There isn’t much in there aside from a twin bed and a few superhero posters to cover up the stains on the wall.

If he gets the job though he’s going to end up living in the Walsh’s Ballet School, in the wing reserved for the staff. Louis is almost excited to move in if only because this room reminds him all too much of the past.

He could probably mention it to Liam who would no doubt accommodate and find them a nicer place to live because Liam lives to please and also because despite his misgivings, Liam does love Louis just like Louis loves Liam.

Louis changes into a pair of joggers and a loose t-shirt before falling back on his bed—it squeaks under his weight, making him cringe—and lets his mind go blank for a few seconds, imagining a world where his life is normal.

There’s a window in his room and he grimaces when he feels the sunlight hitting the back of his eyelids. He remembers closing the blinds in the morning before he left and he doesn’t think Liam came into his room because there’s no reason for him to.

He opens his eyes and squints at the window. He takes a moment to consider whether or not closing the blinds is worth getting up before sighing and getting to his feet anyways.

Louis moves to close the blinds but then pauses when he sees a blur of motion in the corner of his eye. He narrows his eyes and opens his window instead, peering out at the fire escapes on either side. He doesn’t see anyone but he can’t help the feeling that someone is watching him.

When he hears the sound of a small crash beneath him, Louis tenses up.

It’s been awhile since he’s been out of the office on a mission—his last mission was a month ago, in Glasgow and it wasn’t everything he thought it’d be. He wonders if maybe that’s why he’s rusty and then because the thought of slacking irritates him, he grumbles and climbs out of the window.

He stands on his fire escape, turning in a full circle to get a grasp of his surroundings and when he doesn’t see anything else suspicious, he frowns.

“Hello?” he calls, peering over the railing to see into the fire escape below him. “Is there anyone there?”

Louis hesitates before throwing a leg over the railing of his fire escape and climbing over it. He slowly lowers himself until his feet reach the railing of the fire escape beneath his. He carefully steps over a broken potted plant after landing quietly.

He peers in the window, eyes cataloging everything he sees. There appears to be no one in the flat and then after a painstaking moment, Louis reaches for attempts to lift the window. When it doesn’t give away at his first try, Louis sighs and reaches in his pocket for a bobby pin.

It only takes a few seconds to crack the lock and Louis puts it down to how poorly built the entire building is. It doesn’t ease his own worries about someone breaking into his and Liam’s flat.

After Louis climbs into the flat, he grits his teeth, realizing he doesn’t have a warrant. He doesn’t think too much about that, instead quickly crossing the room to open the door and peer out at the hallway. It’s a similar layout to his flat above and he doesn’t see anyone.

There are no pictures on the walls or any personable items laying out. It’s all immaculately clean. As though no one lives there.

Louis narrows his eyes and he quickly checks to make sure his gun is still pressing into his hip before he moves forward stealthily. He checks out the entire flat and it’s only when he’s in the kitchen that he sees movement again in the corner of his eye.

A person dressed in black from head to toe is standing near the window and Louis immediately pulls his gun out, finger on the trigger.

He can’t see much of the person aside from their eyes and they’re wearing red contacts, making it impossible for Louis to catalogue their features. The stranger raises their eyebrows before propelling themselves backwards, hands holding onto the window sill as they do a flip and tumble out of the flat.

Louis is as quick as they are, breaking into a sprint as they fall out of the flat. He hits the person in the ankle with his gun, causing them to lose balance and then immediately jumps out after them.

He falls a few feet before he realizes the stranger in black is nowhere to be seen and he throws himself against the building, trying to gain leverage and hold on so he doesn’t hit the ground below him. Before he can fall and crack his skull open, his fingers grip tightly onto a window sill.

Louis huffs a quiet breath up before pulling himself up and onto the ledge.

When Louis finds his way back to his flat, he’s a little worse for wear. He picks the lock open so as not to alert Liam and he sneaks back to his room first, checking to make sure nothing was disturbed in his absence.

“Is there anyone there?” he calls one last time and there’s no answer. He didn’t expect one.

He decides he’s losing his mind and sighs, brushing himself off as he shuts the open window firmly and closes the blinds.

Louis leaves his room, abandoning his previous plans for a short nap and walking towards the kitchen. Liam is pouring tea into their cups when Louis enters and he doesn’t notice Louis is in the room until he turns around.

Because Liam is as much of a secret agent as he is, he doesn’t flinch or spill the tea. Instead he raises an eyebrow and holds one hand out. It’s the mug that says _PRINCESS_ on it. Never let it be said that Liam isn’t a wanker.

Louis takes the mug and sips from it. He smiles at Liam even though there's an awful taste in his mouth. It's for more than one reason though. Liam forgot again that Louis doesn’t take sugar.

“Did you go in my room today?” Louis asks instead of commenting on the tea. His leg is bouncing up and down. If Liam notices, he doesn’t say anything.

Liam sips from his own tea before shaking his head. “Nope, I haven’t left the living room since I woke up. Why?”

Louis’ blood runs cold but he keeps the smile on his face. “No reason,” he assures, turning around and walking towards the window in the kitchen and glancing out. “You know how I like my privacy.”

Behind him Liam laughs because he does know. Louis is a little high maintenance when it comes to people invading his privacy. It was a good lie to tell.

There’s another blur in the corner of Louis’ eye and he turns imperceptibly, following the blur without alerting Liam as to what’s worrying him. It turns out to be a small black cat, watching him with yellow eyes from the building opposite them.

Louis narrows his eyes because he could’ve sworn he saw something else— _someone_ else. The stranger in black. When he sees nothing else, he puts it off to paranoia but he can’t quite ignore the itch in the back of his mind telling him to scope out their entire neighborhood until he finds the stranger.

“Hey, Lou, you want to play some FIFA while my files on the rest of the dance schools in the area download?” Liam asks, pulling Louis out of his thoughts.

Louis turns to look at him and then nods once slowly before nodding again firmly. “Yeah, let’s go. I’m going to kick your arse, Payno.”

✿ ✿ ✿

The call comes early in the morning but Louis rarely sleeps these days so he picks up the phone after one ring. “Hello?”

“Is this Alexander Sharpe?” the voice on the other end asks. It’s female and pleasant. Soothing almost. Lulling.

“The one and only,” Louis agrees carefully. He picks up the remote to the telly and mutes the program that’s playing.

“Hello Mr. Sharpe. This is Lauren calling from Walsh’s Ballet School and we’d like you to offer you a job, filling in our position for senior dance instructor,” the woman says, sounding far too cheerful for seven in the morning.

Louis manages to muster up an equal amount of cheeriness before replying, “Really?” in a voice that’s several octaves higher. “That’s amazing. Thank you so much! This means everything to me. I’d love to take the job.” There’s a something that resembles a frown on his face the entire time.

“We look forward to having you join us. You can move in Sunday morning,” Lauren informs brightly.

“Thanks, love,” Louis replies and forces back a yawn. “Can’t begin to explain how excited I am.”

“We hope to see you soon!” Lauren tells him before she hangs up. Louis rolls his eyes and drops the phone in his lap and sinks further into the couch as some children’s program continues playing on the telly.

Liam comes back from his run ten minutes later, sweating and hyper. Louis has always detested morning people.

“The school called,” Louis says monotonously, flicking through the channels on the telly as Liam unplugs his headphones and unties his running shoes.

Liam stands back up almost immediately, eyebrows raised. “What did they say?”

“I got the job,” Louis replies and he supposes he should sound more excited about it but he can’t manage to put on a happy façade twice this early in the morning.

It’s okay because Liam seems delighted enough for the two of them, fist pumping like the absolute prat he is while Louis watches on with a quirked eyebrow.

Then something occurs to Louis. “Liam,” he says slowly, twisting around in his seat to face the younger man. “Did you plan ahead?”

Liam falters in the stupid dance that he’s doing to look at Louis in confusion. He tilts his head.  “What do you mean?”

“I mean I can’t fucking dance, Liam,” Louis informs exasperatedly, shaking his own head. “Surely you planned ahead for this?”

The blank look Liam gives him isn’t all that reassuring and Louis feels himself start to stress. He can’t fail another mission, especially one he’s yet to actually start.

Before he can actually start to panic, Liam blinks like he’s stepping out of a dream and mumbles, “ _Oh_ ,” like he didn’t just almost give Louis an anxiety attack. “Of course I planned ahead.”

Louis throws a pillow at his head. Liam catches it. They move on.

After a short nap and two cups of coffee, Louis finds himself staring at a thick stack of papers. “And what the bloody hell am I supposed to do with this?” he wonders, lifting the first piece of paper at the top of the pile with the tip of his pinky.

“Read it, study it, memorize it. Take it with you,” Liam shrugs, leaning against the kitchen counter, “whatever is easiest.”

“Are you serious?” Louis asks in disbelief. When Liam says nothing, Louis’ mouth falls open just the tiniest bit. “You’re serious.”

“I mean… I don’t really know what else to tell you,” Liam mumbles, looking just slightly on the apologetic side as he rubs the back of his neck. “It honestly won’t be that hard. Make flash cards or something and take them with you. I’ve seen you do harder things.”

“I’m going to kill you,” Louis informs, without looking up from the papers. “Slowly. In your sleep. You won’t even know it’s happening until you wake up choking on your own blood. It would do you well to remember I’m an extremely skilled Secret Service agent with multiple deaths under my belt.”

Him being comfortable making threats of that nature probably goes to show how fucked up his mentality has become in the past few years.

He hears Liam make an affronted sound but Louis doesn’t retract the statement. Liam knows he’s not serious. If Louis was, he wouldn’t have said anything in the first place.

“I’ve killed people too,” Liam grumbles as he leaves the kitchen but they both know it’s nowhere near as many as Louis has.

Liam is part of the Secret Service’s tech crew. It’s rare that he gets into the action unlike Louis whose exact skill is doing just that. It’s not something he’s particularly proud of.

There _was_ a time when he was proud of it but that time has passed and now every life he takes feels like an added weight to his shoulders. He knows that one day, he’ll inevitably crash under the burden but for now, he does his job and tries not to think too much of what his mum or sisters would think if they knew.

Even now, there’s a gun digging into the skin of his hip and a foldable knife in his back pocket.

Of the agents that work for the SIS, Louis likes to think he’s among the normal ones. It’s sad because it’s true and yet he’s as fucked up as he is. Secret agents don’t have the best track record when it comes to mental health.

Having met some of the older agents, who hang on by just a bare thread sometimes, Louis can say with confidence that he is one of the more normal ones.

Given, he’s no Liam, who has multiple stable relationships in his life. Liam keeps in weekly contact with his family and daily contact with his girlfriend of two years, Sophia. They even have a pet together.

Louis is an entirely different story. He’s twenty-three and he’s been working for the Secret Service for five years and in that time, he’s spoken to his family exactly five times. He hasn’t had a boyfriend since graduating secondary school and running off to Manchester. The last time he slept with someone was a year ago, in Germany, and he remembers lying there, come drying on his stomach, having an existential crisis.

Being a secret agent—it’s hard, but at the end of the day, Louis figures there are worse situations he could find himself in. He’s saved the world a few times and he’s also saved millions of lives. That overshadows the worst parts of his job.

He wills himself to remember that as he delves into the hundred-page overview of the art of ballet dancing.

✿ ✿ ✿

Louis is shopping for ballet flats at some small store in downtown London when the strangest feeling comes over him. He feels as though he’s being watched.

He turns slowly on his feet, scanning the store. The only other person he sees is the girl at the register, who’s flipping idly through a magazine with earphones plugged in.

Pursing his lips, Louis stands up, despite being barefoot and walks towards the changing room. After entering the room, he knocks on the first stall before pushing it open to find it empty. He does the same with the second stall and the third.

At the fourth one, he falters for a second but then pushes it open. He isn’t expecting it when he gets kicked in the chest, falling backwards into a rack of clothes.

The stranger in black watches him for a second and Louis is too disoriented to do anything besides stare back. Their eyes are still red and unrecognizable.

“Tu devrais être plus prudent, Louis,” the person whispers and it’s the low rasp of a man. _You should be more careful, Louis_.

“Va te faire foutre,” Louis spits, getting to his feet and swinging his fist. He just barely misses as the man ducks out of the way.

The man isn’t so lucky when Louis knees him, making him keel over before elbowing him harshly at the base of his neck. Before Louis can do any more damage, the man slips out of his grip and uses the stalls as a grasp to do a handstand on, flipping easily until he’s at the opposite end of the room.

Louis sprints after him but the door to the changing room slams shut before he can follow after the man. He tries to uselessly to open it before cursing under his breath quietly and taking out a bobby pin.

By the time he opens the door, the store is empty again, aside from the girl at the register who doesn’t seem to have noticed anything.

Louis sucks in a shallow breath through his teeth and exhales slowly, reminding himself to stay calm. He walks back over to where he was looking at ballet flats and then freezes.

His shoes are gone.

“Fucking arsehole,” Louis mutters, glaring at the ground. He ends up having to purchase two pairs of shoes—one for ballet and one to walk home in.

✿ ✿ ✿

“Okay, have you got everything?” Liam asks, worried doe eyes set on Louis’ bags.

“Yes, mum,” Louis replies, shaking his head fondly. If there’s anyone who still brings out the soft side of Louis, it’s Liam. “I’m all set up.”

Liam nods but there’s still a nervous twist to his mouth that makes Louis smile faintly. “It’s just that—I worry. You know.”

“Yes, Liam,” he replies gently. “But I’ll be fine. I’ve done this a dozen times. And if I need anything, you have my back, so it’ll all be okay, yeah?”

Liam’s answer is a mumbled, “Yeah,” that has Louis rolling his eyes. He gives Liam a quick one-armed hug, careful not to accidentally nick him with the knife that’s in the hidden compartment of his jumper sleeve.

He has at least four weapons hidden on his person and half a dozen more in his bags. He has other equipment too as well as one of Liam’s laptops tucked away.

After Liam assured him that there would be no metal detectors or security checks, Louis clasped on the bracelet his sister Lottie gave him for his eighteenth birthday. He had Liam modify it so that holds a tiny vial of poison in it, in the case that Louis is compromised.

The mission they’re about to embark on is complicated in that they don’t have a lot of information.

In the past few months there has been increasingly suspicious activity online, including someone hacking into the government’s private files and when traced back, it led directly Walsh’s Ballet School. Their tech team looked into it but when they couldn’t find anything significant, Liam was assigned the mission and instructed to look _further_ into it.

They also wanted an agent on the inside, going undercover and scoping things out and the first person to come to Liam’s mind was Louis. To a certain extent, Louis is grateful because otherwise he would’ve been stuck working from his desk on cases that have little to no impact on the world.

That’s something Louis just can’t do. He doesn’t bode well knowing he’s essentially doing nothing.

What he’s yet to mention to Liam or any of his superiors is the stranger in black. He hopes keeping the information to himself doesn’t cost him.

After a minute Louis clears his throat, avoiding Liam’s gaze as he mumbles, “Thank you.”

Liam doesn’t ask what for—he already knows. “Love you, Lou,” is his simple reply, matched with a squeeze to the shoulder.

Louis nods. “Love you too, Li.”

And then he’s off, undercover for the next four months. He doesn’t know if he’s prepared for it but he knows he’s going to give it his all and nothing else.

Louis is jittery. He is impulsive and he is reckless. He is a hurricane waiting to happen. Everyone knows it.

✿ ✿ ✿

“And this is your room,” Melissa informs, pointing at a closed door and her shirt sleeve rides up, showing a red crescent on her wrist similar to Adrian’s. She immediately tugs the sleeve down while wearing her blank expression again. Louis matches it with one of his own although he makes a mental note. “You already know the rules of Walsh’s, don’t you?”

Louis turns to look at her. “No,” he states bluntly because Liam didn’t mention anything about rules. It must be an unofficial set. “What rules?”

Melissa lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Alright. Rule one, lights out by eleven. Breakfast is served at seven in the dining room on the third floor and if you’re not there by ten past seven then you’re not eating. Same with lunch at noon and dinner at six. Rule two, you aren’t allowed to enter or leave the building without getting clearance from Lauren at the front desk. Rule three, you aren’t allowed to have visitors stay past eight in the evening and they aren’t allowed above the first floor. Rule four, if one of your superiors tells you something, you have to listen to them or risk being kicked out. Rule five, don’t ask questions about things that don’t concern you. Understand?”

He blinks at her once before nodding shortly. “Understood.”

She gives him a long look before turning around and walking back in the direction they came, towards the lift. They’re on the second floor, in the west wing. The building is old but Louis can tell it’s been refurbished recently.

Louis glances down at his hand where he’s holding a keycard and observes it for a moment. It’s simple enough and it shouldn’t take long for Louis to scan it and send it off to Liam for security purposes.

He slides the keycard into the slot next to his door before turning the handle and entering the room. He’s not sure what he’s expecting but when he sees a relatively large room, empty aside from a bed and a dresser, he releases a breath he didn’t realize he was holding in.

Before he does anything else, Louis presses a button on the watch Liam made him wear. It checks the room for any bugs that might’ve been planted as well as hidden cameras. When his watch blinks green once, he knows he’s in the clear.

After that, he can really breathe as he sets down his bags and collapses onto the bed. There’s a large window on the wall opposite the door and Louis wonders if he can use that to leave the building after hours. He’ll have to check later.

Louis lies there for a minute before he notices the piece of paper pinned to the back of the door and he hops up, crossing the room in a few quick steps.

He’s almost disappointed when he sees it’s just a schedule.

Then he realizes he’s supposed to be teaching a class in fifteen minutes and his eyes widen.

Louis runs back over to his bags, quickly disposing of his jeans and his gun to slip on a pair of dark leggings. Liam laughed when Louis bought them but he shut up rather quickly after Louis punched him in the arm.

He’s hesitant to remove his jumper but eventually does, careful to slip the knife out of the sleeve first. He’s left in a simple t-shirt, the leggings, and no weapons on his body. He knows he’s going to have to wear ballet flats and those leave very little room for weapons.

With a sigh, Louis toes off his vans and mourns the switchblades hidden in the soles before putting on a pair of simple black ballet flats.

Louis bites his lip, unsure whether or not he should carry a small weapon just in case and then decides he should, if only because that’s SIS protocol. He slips a small clothed knife into the waistband of his briefs and prays the outline isn’t too visible.

He grabs his phone and keycard and makes a move for the door before faltering. After a second thought, he grabs his flashcards too before hurrying out of his room and to the lift.

There’s another man standing there and Louis takes a moment to observe him.

He’s around the same height as Louis, with tan skin and raven colored hair. He’s dressed similarly to Louis, except for the fact he looks like he’s modeling the clothes whereas Louis probably looks homeless. He’s exceptionally beautiful—almost immaculately so.

The man doesn’t say anything to him the entire ride down to the first floor and then he disappears rather quickly. Louis doesn’t bother staring after him because he can’t risk being late to his first class on his first day working there.

On the bright side, he doesn’t get lost because Melissa did show him where his classes take place. It’s a large hall at the end of the east wing and when he gets there, there’s less than ten students stretching on the floor.

Louis takes a deep breath and prays to anyone listening that he doesn’t fuck this up before walking over to the front of the room. He feels a few eyes watching him but he doesn’t turn to look. Instead, he quickly goes over his flashcards and then sighs, mentally readying himself.

He turns around and the entire class is watching him. Having all eyes on him activates a side of him that he hasn’t really brought to the surface since being in school and having to impress all his mates.

“Hey. I’m Alexander Sharpe but you can call me Mr. Sharpe. I’m going to be your dancing instructor for the next few months,” he says as cheerfully as he can, surveying the class.

There are five women and four men. He recognizes two of them—the man from just five minutes earlier in the lift and the blond man from the lift on the day of his interview.

The blond is the first to break the silence that follows Louis’ introduction. Louis briefly recalls his name is Niall. “It’s nice to meet you Mr. Sharpe!” he shouts, grinning widely from where he’s sitting cross legged on the floor.

It makes Louis feel significantly better. “It’s nice to meet all of you too,” Louis replies, smiling back before nodding at the rest of them. “I hope you don’t mind me asking but could you all introduce yourselves? Just so I can become familiar with your names.”

Everyone in the room slowly nods and then Niall starts. “I’m Niall.”

The other man Louis recognizes speaks up after him, watching him with a contemplative expression. “I’m Zayn.”

It goes like that for a while, names passing around the room. Louis mentally catalogues all nine of them; there’s Niall, Zayn, Camila, Barbara, Karen, Cara, Xander, Jeff and Glenne. This is his entire senior class. His only class if his schedule is anything to go by. He can work with this. This isn’t that bad at all.

 _Everything is going to be fine_ , Louis thinks to himself in relief.

It seems fitting that only seconds after that, Louis’ world explodes. Or perhaps it stops. Maybe it’s his heart that stops. Louis doesn’t quite know.

Someone bumbles in through the door, making Louis visibly start in surprise although everyone else in the room seems completely unaffected, apparently used to it.

There’s a man standing in the doorway of the dance hall and he’s what makes the world stop.

He’s long legs that go on for days and bubblegum pink lips parted as he tries to regain his breath. He’s lily pad green eyes lit up with exhilaration and cream colored skin hidden behind sheer black fabric. He’s shoulder length golden brown curls and large hands clutching his chest, apologetic. “Oops,” he says and Louis blinks, unsure if he’s caught in a dream.

“Hi,” Louis replies without preamble before wincing mentally. _Hi_? _Really_? _Could he say anything worse_? “You’re late,” are the next words out of his mouth. _Yes. Yes, he could say something worse_.

The man frowns, eyebrow knitting together. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles hoarsely. His voice is deeper than Louis expected and it settles warmly somewhere in the pit of his stomach.

“What’s your name?” Louis asks, reminding himself not to take a closer look or to reach out and definitely not to touch to see if the man’s curls are as soft as they look.

The man flushes, biting his bottom lip before quietly saying, “Harry.”

Louis quirks an eyebrow. “Okay. I’m Mr. Sharpe,” he says before instructing, “Don’t be late again.”

Harry nods, ducking his head and his cheeks are bright pink as he scurries to the back of the room, joining Niall and Zayn.

Louis stares after him a moment before remembering that he’s meant to be teaching a class.

“Right,” he says, clearing his head before clapping his hands together. “So as most of you know, I’m entirely new to the school. I just moved in twenty minutes ago and I’m going to be with you for the next few months until Mr. James returns.”

All the dancers nod along to his words and Louis silently counts his blessings. Some of these dancers look older than he is and undoubtedly they are.

“I don’t really know much of your skills aside from what Mr. James left me in his notes,” Louis starts before picking up his flashcards. “It says here you ten are the most experienced in the school and that you have a big final performance in December. Is that correct?”

“Yes, Mr. Sharpe,” Camila answers for all of them.

Louis hums in reply, going over his flashcards once more before his gaze shifts back to the dancers. “Okay, so I have an idea but if you guys don’t want to do it then that’s fine. Just hear me out, yeah?”

When no one shouts in disagreement, Louis takes a deep breath and continues. “Mr. James spoke highly of all of you but I’d like to see for myself. I thought it might help me to get to know all of you and also give you chance to show me who you are,” he offers, eyes flickering over the dancers.

They seem to be considering it and then eventually everyone gets to their feet in sync. Louis blinks, wondering if they practiced that but the thought passes quickly.

“I’m guessing that’s a yes,” he murmurs before he turns around and walks towards the large stereo at the front of the hall. He ignores the various CDs lying around and plugs in his phone before choosing a track. He downloaded Tchaikovsky and Prokofiev and Debussy amongst others onto the new phone he was given for this specific mission.

As Tchaikovsky starts blaring through the speakers, all the dancers slowly rise to their tiptoes and Louis watches with interest, leaning against the mirror.

He watches the women first, watches them flow like rivers. They’re all very gentle, very soft and Louis feels he truly understands what beauty is as they twirl gracefully. They move like flower petals falling and Louis swears he’s watching spring come to life in the fall.

Next, he watches the men. They all have their unique way of dancing, quick and precise. They move like an avalanche, tumbling yet gracious.

Zayn in particular catches Louis’ eye. There’s something striking about the way he dances, cutting and elegant. Louis swears he can see the ambition radiating off his twisting body and it’s evident in the sharpness of his eyes that he knows exactly what he’s doing.

Louis is still watching Zayn when Harry cuts into his vision, twirling with a raw passion that Louis has never seen before. He bends and twists and reaches mellifluously. He grows more beautiful with each and every movement, arms reaching above his head, back curving and toes pointing straight.

When Louis sees the cold, blankness of Harry’s face, he’s taken back, blinking in surprise. Harry’s eyes meet his and they’re no longer lily pads—they’re pine trees covered in frost, piercing and holding. If Louis is a hurricane, then Harry is a blizzard.

Louis feels shivers run down his spine by the time the track stops playing. When the last notes dissipate into the air, they all fall flat on their feet, staring at him.

“That was—” Louis pauses, clearing his throat. He makes an effort to address the class as a whole and not just one person in particular. He drags his eyes away from the curve of Harry’s shoulders and the length of his torso. “That was excellent. You’re all very talented.”

He can’t help it when he looks back at Harry and he’s shocked to see the young man is smiling brightly, sweet dimples pressing into his cheeks and iridescent stars in his eyes.

If Louis were smart, he’d get the hell out of there right now, board a flight to the Bahamas and never ever look for celestial bodies in another person’s eyes again but when it comes to boys who are golden, he has a hard time thinking straight.

Louis turns away from the dancers, eyes fluttering shut as he takes a quick moment to remind himself of who he is and what he’s doing. He is not Alexander Sharpe, a dancing instructor. He is Louis Tomlinson, an undercover secret agent.

He is a spy and Harry is a dancer and their worlds don’t overlap.

Louis breathes in and then breathes out before turning back around with a bright smile and gesturing towards his flashcards. “So Mr. James says here that you lot were planning to do Sleeping Beauty for your final performance in December? Is that right?”

The entire class nods.

“Did he assign roles yet?” Louis asks and when he looks up, the entire class looks fidgety. There’s very obviously something he’s missing but he knows when not to press. “If not, we can start holding auditions the day after tomorrow.”

The entire class nods again but the tension in the air is palpable. Louis frowns, narrowing his eyes but he still doesn’t press. “Since there is an even amount of women and men in this class while the ballet is predominantly female oriented, I’ll speak to the higher ups to see if we can accommodate to make certain roles available for the men. Is that alright?”

Once again, they all nod. It’s more than a little creepy how synchronized they are.

“Okay,” Louis mutters to himself before addressing the class as a whole, “I have to start planning so there’s nothing else for you lot to do today. If you’d like to stick around and just practice, feel free. I’ll be here for the next three hours to supervise.”

The dancers seem a bit lost at that but when Louis doesn’t say anything else, he sees some of them shrug and trickle out of the room.

Only three students stay. Niall, Zayn and Harry.

Louis bites his lip but doesn’t address any of them, instead busying himself with his phone and flashcards. In his email, there’s extensive notes on the ballet for Sleeping Beauty, including diagrams and pictures.

He doesn’t know what he did to deserve Liam but he’s so, so thankful.

When he thinks of the nights he’s going to spend pouring through the pages, he’s a little less thankful but he resigns himself to it with a quiet sigh. If anything, he’s getting the easy way out of life. He could be studying calculus or something equally awful. He nearly shudders at the thought.

Louis shoots a quick text off to Liam, a simple _all is well !!_ and he receives a text back almost immediately, chastising him for texting on the job. He can’t help but snort and it seems he catches the attention of one of the dancers.

Harry’s watching him curiously as he does stretching exercises. Niall and Zayn are off in corner of the dance hall, pirouetting around each other and practicing lifts.

After another quick glance at his notes which gives a brief description of each dancer in his class including their last names, Louis turns back to Harry who’s still watching him. “Do you need something, Mr. Styles?”

If he expected Harry to shy away, he’s disappointed. While Harry does flush darker, he meets Louis’ gaze without flinching. “No… I just wanted to apologize again for earlier,” he says, touching his left toe with both of his arms. “I’m not usually late. It’s just that—uh, one of the girls in our beginner’s ballet class, Lux, was really nervous because today they’re holding auditions for the Ugly Duckling. I was trying to calm her down and I forgot that my own class started so soon. I didn’t mean to be disrespectful.”

Louis doesn’t want to admit it but his heart melts in his chest. The thought of Harry risking being late to class to help a small, nervous child is just too much for him to take. It takes him a moment to gather his wits before he nods at Harry’s apology.

“It’s okay,” he says and it comes out softer than he intends. He curses his soft spot for pretty boys with golden hearts. “I didn’t mind that much. It’s just my first day and I don’t want to seem too easy-going,” he admits.

Oh God, what is he _doing_? Why are these words coming out of his mouth? Did he suddenly lose his brain-to-mouth filter?

“You didn’t,” Harry assures immediately, eyes wide as he bends one of his legs at the knee. “Even if you did, no one here would disrespect you. We all know the rules.”

Louis almost forgot about that. The rules that Melissa told him about. _Rule four, if one of your superiors tells you something, you have to listen to them or risk being kicked out._

“That’s good to know,” Louis replies and his voice goes low like it does whenever he’s joking with his mates. That’s not a good sign. This mission is going absolutely terribly and Louis has been here for an hour. “Thanks, Harry.”

Harry beams at him before he returns to his stretches. Louis feels distinctly distraught.

Three hours later, all three dancers are leaving the room but Harry stops even after Niall and Zayn have left to say, “Have a nice day, Mr. Sharpe,” with a sweet dimpled smile.

Louis looks up from his phone to smile back. “You too, Harry.”

The second Harry disappears, Louis leans against the mirror and groans to himself. This is not what he’s supposed to be doing. He’s supposed to be gathering intel.

He’s not supposed to be thinking about Harry’s lips and the way he talks or the way he flips his hair. He’s not a teenager with a crush. He’s a spy with a very important mission and right now he’s endangering it by getting distracted.

Louis makes a silent vow to himself right then to not let Harry Styles distract him from this mission.

Even as he’s making the vow, he has a very distinct feeling he’s not going to be able to keep it. He tampers that feeling down and instead gathers his stuff to head back into his room.

He has a wall to scale, after all.

✿ ✿ ✿

“Next!” Louis shouts from where he’s sitting on a wooden chair in the middle of senior dance hall. He has a clipboard in his lap and a pen in his mouth, where he’s biting on the end of it.

He’s wearing prescription glasses with a small camera built-in so that Liam can see everything he does. It’s so that Liam and the rest of the SIS headquarters can help him cast the parts of Sleeping Beauty because as much as Louis has studied up on ballet so far, he’s still no expert.

The images are being filtered back to their SIS headquarters by Liam. There, they have several ballet instructors watching and calling the shots that Louis couldn’t make if his life depended on it.

Liam is texting him updates every few minutes and Louis is marking it all down on his clipboard.

After Louis had a brief meeting with Melissa, he was told he could cast every role to both the women and men if he deemed them fit. Meaning his Sleeping Beauty may just be one of the males lined up and his King Florestan may just end up being one of the lovely ladies.

The next person to come in is Niall who waves to Louis cheerfully.

Louis smiles back indulgently. “What part are you here to audition for?” he asks.

Niall seems to burst with nervous energy as he answers, “Prince Désiré.”

That surprises Louis. From what he’s learned about Niall in the past two days, he’s a very easy going lad, always up to have fun and never fails to be cheerful. He didn’t expect Niall to try for such a serious role, much less one of the lead roles.

“Well, by all means, go ahead,” Louis encourages, leaning back in his chair and watching as Niall takes a deep breath. Louis starts the music and Niall immediately launches into dance.

While Louis doesn’t really know if Niall is accurately doing the part but he knows that Niall looks incredibly fluid doing it. He’s almost tempted to make a comparison to the Nile River for his own personal amusement but then decides he doesn’t want to be _that_ teacher.

When Niall finishes, Louis claps delightedly and it makes him genuinely smile when he sees how flushed with happiness Niall is. “That was excellent, Niall!” he calls out and the Irish man laughs loudly.

“Thanks, Mr. Sharpe!” he crows, grinning as he turns to leave.

Louis waits a minute for Liam to text him and when he does, it’s a text that says Niall is perfect for the role he auditioned for and to definitely mark him down as a top contestant.

After Louis does that, he calls, “Next!” again.

Zayn comes in a moment later and his hair is in a messy quiff. Unlike Niall who seemed incredibly bright, Zayn is incredibly dark. He walks like a predator stalking his prey and dances much the same.

“What part are you auditioning for?” Louis asks, tapping his pen against the clipboard.

“Carabosse,” Zayn answers calmly, tilting his head. A strand of hair falls into his eyes but he pays it no mind although Louis tracks the motion. It’s mostly out of his need to be aware of everything that’s happening in the room.

Louis nods after a moment because he anticipated Zayn auditioning for this role as soon as he was told any gender could apply for each role. Zayn would be excellent at playing a part so wicked.

“Start when the music plays,” he instructs before starting a different track.

He doesn’t really pay attention when Zayn dances, because he feels he’s seen it before. It’s textbook ballet. Everything Zayn is doing is exactly what the professionals on YouTube do, all precise movements and clean cut curves.

When Zayn finishes, Louis claps and then blinks in surprise when he feels his phone buzz almost immediately. He doesn’t reach for it until after Zayn bows and leaves.

The text is simple. It says _CAST HIM!!_

Louis wants to ask why but he doesn’t have enough time before his next dancer comes in so he sighs and makes a mental note to question Liam about it later.

“Next!” he shouts, crossing his ankles together as he looks down at his clipboard. So far, each person has auditioned for different roles so there’s no competition amongst the dancers. He wonders if they discussed this beforehand so there would be no bad blood.

He’s still thinking about it when Harry walks into the dance hall, hair tied into a bun and eyes lit up with excitement. Louis’ heart skips a beat but he ignores it.

“What part are you going to audition for?” he asks, near captivated with the way Harry is nervously biting his bottom lip.

Before Harry answers, Louis’ phone buzzes against his thigh again, dragging his attention away from Harry momentarily.

He glances down at his phone quickly and sees a text that reads _TOMMO u’ve gotta be kiddin me…_

Louis stares at it in confusion until another text comes through. _this boy is exactly ur type.. dont u dare do anything stupid i swear ill kill u_

That makes Louis snort in surprise and he texts back saying _Fuck off Payno !!_ before turning his attention back to Harry who he realizes must’ve spoken while he was preoccupied.

“I’m sorry,” Louis apologizes, shaking his head and putting his phone underneath his leg so he doesn’t get distracted again. “Can you repeat that?”

Harry smiles and his nose scrunches just slightly as he says, “I’m auditioning for Sleeping Beauty.”

Louis blinks at him in confusion. “Yes… you all are?”

When Harry starts giggling, Louis is confused but also incredibly endeared. Mostly confused though. He doesn’t understand why Harry is amused until the younger man speaks up again. “I meant I’m auditioning for the _part_ of Sleeping Beauty.”

“Oh,” Louis replies before it actually sinks in. “Oh,” he repeats and shakes his head in attempt to clear it. “Sorry, it’s been a long day.”

“It’s fine,” Harry assures, smiling almost shyly. “Should I just begin then?”

“Yes, please,” Louis replies before he starts the track.

Harry starts in fifth position before he physically encompasses the song, twisting and bending and leaping across the hall. If Louis were to describe him, he’d say Harry is a leap of color, green eyes, pink lips, golden-brown locks and pale skin, all melting into one human being.

He’s blue, he’s red, he’s green, he’s purple, he’s orange, he’s every color to exist and even those that don’t exist. He’s enchanting and every movement shows it, from the way he looks with his arms stretched above his head to when they’re reaching towards his pointed toes.

If the board of ballet experts back at the SIS headquarters don't give him the part of Sleeping Beauty, Louis might have to start a riot.

When Harry finishes, he’s on the floor with his back curved and his arms are reaching for his feet in a never ending circle of long limbs.

“Wow,” Louis breathes and Harry must hear him because he looks up hopefully. Louis clears his throat before continuing, forcing himself to remain impartial. “Thank you, Harry.”

Harry gets to his feet slowly and then he bows once with his hands pressed together in front of him before he exits the room. Louis stares after him for a moment too long and then nearly jumps out of his skin when his phone buzzes again.

“Jesus,” he mutters under his breath, reaching under his thigh to grab his phone. There’s a single text there that says _give him the part at ur own risk. be careful ok don’t get hurt luv u_

Louis makes a face at the text and doesn’t reply, instead shouting, “Next!” with a bad taste in his mouth.

✿ ✿ ✿

There’s something terribly lonely about going undercover. Louis has always found that to be one of the hardest parts of the job since he’s a people person. He loves talking to them, laughing with them, just being in their presence.

Which is why eating breakfast on his own, at an empty table, makes him restless.

Louis sighs and stabs his eggs with his fork. It’s silent around him even though the dining hall is nearly completely full. No one is really talking aside from a few hushed whispers here and there and Louis wonders if it’s some unspoken rule to stay silent during breakfast.

He doesn’t necessarily mind because he’s not really a morning person and being awake this early is another hard part of going undercover.

Since Louis has borderline insomnia, he’s very grateful for the few hours of sleep he manages to get. Usually those hours tend to be early in the morning when he finally gets his brain to shut down.

These days he doesn’t have that option seeing as he needs be awake by sunrise to get ready for the day ahead.

Louis stabs his eggs again but doesn’t lift the fork to his mouth.

He’s staring despondently at his bread when he feels someone walking up behind him. He doesn’t tense up, knowing that would give him away but he shifts so the knife in his sleeve is positioned for easy access.

It turns out he doesn’t have to use it because the person walks right around him and sits down in front of him. It’s Harry, who has his own tray full of food and a hesitant smile on his face.

“You don’t mind, right?” Harry checks, fidgeting slightly.

He’s nervous and it’s obvious. Louis wishes that didn’t endear him as much as it does.

“No,” Louis replies, setting his fork down and observing Harry instead. He hasn’t changed into his dance clothes yet. Instead he’s wearing a patterned long sleeved shirt with most of the buttons undone. There’s a few tattoos there and Louis’ eyes are drawn to them immediately.

He looks away after he realizes he’s blatantly staring and instead meets Harry’s eyes. The young man is watching him and he looks fascinated.

“Do I have something on my face?” Louis asks but there’s a teasing lilt to his voice.

Harry blinks like he didn’t realize he was staring and then flushes, immediately looking down at his food. “Uh. No, you’re just—um,” Harry swallows visibly and doesn’t continue.

Louis quirks an eyebrow inquisitively. “I’m what?”

Normally Louis wouldn’t push it but Harry's cheeks are bright pink and he looks almost _embarrassed_. Louis wants to know what would cause that reaction.

Harry doesn’t answer, biting his lip and intently staring at his food.

Without thinking about it, Louis nudges Harry with his foot. It causes the young man to start and he looks back up at Louis, eyes glittering. “You’re just… really pretty.”

If Louis were eating anything, he’d probably have choked. Thankfully, his mouth is empty and probably agape at this point too. “Uh.” It’s rare for someone to leave him speechless.

Harry’s flushing even darker than before, looking anywhere but at Louis.

Then Louis does something really stupid.

“You’re really pretty too,” he says quietly, like it’s a secret, “and I’ve never seen someone dance as beautifully as you do.”

A second later, Louis realizes what a bad idea that is and he clears his throat loudly. “Speaking on a completely professional basis, of course.”

It doesn’t seem to matter because he’s already said what he said and he can’t take it back. He wants to regret it but he’s having a hard time because Harry is looking at him like he just figured out the solution for world peace.

“Thank you,” Harry whispers back and then seems content to eat his breakfast in silence.

If Louis is honest, it’s one of the nicest mornings he’s had in a long time.

✿ ✿ ✿

The thing is that lunch goes the same.

Louis is sitting on his own, eating a ham and brie sandwich, when Harry slides into the seat in front of him again with a bowl of soup and a banana in his large hands. He still looks slightly nervous but a little more at ease than he did a few hours earlier.

“That’s a lot of vegetables,” Louis comments, lowering his eyes to Harry’s bowl.

“It is,” Harry agrees, smiling slightly before holding his spoon out. “Do you want to try some?”

Louis scoffs, shaking his head. “God, no. I hate vegetables.”

Harry furrows his eyebrows as though the concept of hating vegetables is a foreign one. Perhaps it is here. “But it’s good for you.”

“So is working out but you don’t see me lifting weights,” Louis retorts airily, taking another bite of his sandwich. “Let me tell you something, Harry. Vegetables being healthy? It’s a lie that society tells you because they’re evil.”

Harry only looks more confused, his spoon halfway to his mouth as he stares at Louis in confusion. “Why would society ever lie to you? Why would anyone?”

Louis raises an eyebrow. “Why not? They have nothing to lose. We’re the losers in the situation.”

“I… don’t think I understand,” Harry says very slowly, blinking almost languidly.

“Do you like all vegetables?” Louis asks instead of answering properly. He sets his sandwich down to focus his entire attention on Harry.

Harry bites his bottom lip uncertainly for a second before shaking his head. “I hate kale,” he whispers quietly, as though it’s a government conspiracy that he's trying to hide.

Louis laughs quietly, surprised. “Alright then. There’s my point proven.”

There’s silence before, “What was your point?”

“That’s… a good question,” Louis allows before shrugging. “I’m not sure. The real question is whether or not you want half of my sandwich. It’s probably more appetizing than that demon food you’re eating.”

Harry’s expression looks torn, as though he’s unsure whether to feel offended or flattered. Louis rolls his eyes, chuckling as he slides half his sandwich over but not before he snatches Harry’s banana.

“You’re welcome,” he says pointedly, unpeeling the banana.

Harry glances up from the sandwich and he blinks before mumbling, “Thank you.”

For the rest of the lunch, Louis swears Harry’s eyes are on his lips more often than not. He doesn’t call him out for it.

✿ ✿ ✿

Dinner is a repeat of the last two meals except this time, when Harry sits down, he doesn’t look nervous. He looks a bit shy and reserved but after a minute of Louis coaxing him out his shell and gently teasing him, he eases up.

It’s… weird to have every meal with someone that isn’t Liam but it’s not necessarily bad. It’s just different. Louis finds he likes it and it’s really nice not to be alone.

Louis just needs to remember to keep himself in check.

✿ ✿ ✿

Louis posts the casting on Friday afternoon, pinning it outside the senior dance hall. After he does that, he waits inside the dance hall, leaning against the wall opposite the large floor length windows as the class trickles in, whispering excitedly.

Niall comes in midway through, whooping loudly and then he runs straight to Louis and envelops him in a tight hug. Louis huffs in surprise but laughs and hugs Niall back.

“Thank you so much, Mr. Sharpe! This is the best day of my life!” he shouts before running across the hall and picking up one of the women—Barbara—and twirling her around.

Louis watches fondly and doesn’t notice Harry coming up to him until the young man is right in front of him.

“Thank you, Mr. Sharpe,” Harry mumbles before leaning in and pressing a quick kiss to Louis’ cheek. He leaves immediately after that, meeting Niall in the middle of the room for a giant hug.

Louis feels his cheeks burning as blood rushes to his face and he’s glad he’s leaning against the wall because he might’ve fallen over otherwise.

He has to take a minute for himself although he pretends it’s just because he’s waiting for the class to settle down. When everyone is finally sitting down on the wooden floor, Louis pushes himself off the wall and to the center of the room where he sits down too.

“Is everyone happy with their roles?” Louis asks, quickly glancing over all of them. They all seem content enough but it doesn’t hurt to check.

When all the dancers chorus, “Yes, Mr. Sharpe,” Louis feels at peace.

“Great,” he says, clapping his hands together. It’s a bad habit of his. “As you know, some of the other classes are also doing Sleeping Beauty, standing in as the rest of the cast. You ten have the main roles though and that means while we have our group classes, you also need to come see me to schedule your private sessions to advance your understanding of your role. If you have a more significant role, see that you schedule more time with me.”

When the whole class nods again, Louis smiles. He’s getting the hang of this. Maybe he should’ve gone to uni after all and become a drama teacher.

Maybe in a different life though because it’s too late for that now.

Louis takes a deep breath. “Let’s get started then, shall we?”

✿ ✿ ✿

It doesn’t go  _terribly_ . Given, it could’ve gone a lot better but Louis thinks for the amount of time he was allotted to learn about ballet, he did the best he could.

He still dramatically whines to Liam on skype about it and Liam tries to console him but it doesn’t really do much to help the heavy feeling that settles on his chest.

They also discuss the undercover situation more extensively. Apparently Liam dug up information on Adrian Vlasov after Louis snuck into the older man’s office and planted a bug that allowed Liam to track his browsing history.

What they found out is that Adrian is very good at covering his tracks although Liam hasn’t been able to figure out what it is exactly that Adrian is trying to cover up. Louis and Liam both agree to continue digging around for anything that might help them figure out what exactly is going on.

The stranger in black from what feels like a lifetime ago is nowhere to be seen. Louis has been wondering if perhaps the stranger has nothing to do with this mission at all and was rather a personal enemy of his. The thought occasionally haunts him at night, when his eyes won't fall shut.

Another thing is that Louis has noticed that there’s something… off about his students. Not just his students but all of them—the entire school for that matter. He can’t pinpoint exactly what it is but he feels it in the air and he feels when he talks to anyone who’s a permanent resident at Walsh’s.

Even while that bothers him, he feels more distraught at the fact that he can’t quite settle into his alias. He’s a good spy, he is. But this… this is something he just can’t perfect.

Most of the students have barely realized anything is wrong because Louis is nothing if not an expert at playing things off but he saw Zayn shoot him a few confused looks and at the end of the group lesson, Harry smiled at him in a consoling way before all the dancers left.

It stresses Louis out to the point that he spends all night reading (and rereading) the extensive notes Liam sent him on Act 1 of Sleeping Beauty before he promptly collapses at half six in the morning and ends up sleeping through every alarm he has set.

When he does wake up, it’s to the sound of someone knocking obnoxiously at his door and he’s so drowsy that he rolls out of bed and walks to the door without a single weapon on his person.

He swings open the door to find Harry standing there, hand raised to knock again.

“Sorry, Mr. Sharpe,” Harry apologizes immediately, hand dropping to his side.

Louis blinks at him blearily. “Who?”

The look of confusion on Harry’s face is enough to jolt him awake. Before he can say anything, Harry replies, “You? Alexander Sharpe, right? I know I kind of missed your introduction the other day but Niall told me that was your first name.”

Louis thanks the heavens for Harry’s tendency to ramble because it looks like he’s all but forgotten Louis’ tiny fuck up. “Yeah,” he agrees, yawning and leaning against the doorway. “Alexander. Or Alex, whichever.” He waves a hand noncommittally.

Harry bites on his bottom lip, seemingly hesitant but he speaks up a second later nonetheless. “Our last dancing instructor was Greg. We always called him by his first name so it’s always kind of weird to call you Mr. Sharpe,” he admits, twiddling his thumbs as he rocks back on his feet.

Resigning himself to the fact he isn’t going to be able to sleep in any longer, Louis nods along to what Harry is saying. “You can call me Alex if you’d like,” he says unthinkingly and then scrunches his nose as he realizes his mistake.

Harry doesn’t seem to notice though because he’s grinning goofily. “Really?”

Louis sighs and nods his head again. What’s done is done. “Sure, Harry.” Then he pauses and narrows his eyes. “Why the fuck were you banging on my door?”

When Harry’s eyes widen, Louis wonders if maybe he should be censoring himself around his students but Harry recovers a second later so Louis lets it go. “I, uh,” Harry plays with a paper plane necklace around his neck. “You, um. Missed breakfast. I was worried about you.”

It’s almost sweet how nervous Harry is. It’d be sweeter if Louis were more awake to appreciate it. “I had a late night,” he informs, eyebrows raised. “Did you miss me or something?”

“Well… yes?” Harry replies and he looks so earnest that Louis has to take a moment and stare at him dubiously.

“You missed me?” he repeats, wondering if his ears are betraying him.

Harry nods bashfully, biting his lip again. “Yeah. I like having breakfast with you and when you weren’t there, it felt wrong. I wanted you to be there. That’s what missing someone is, isn’t it?”

Again, Harry Styles has left him speechless. It’s becoming quite the common occurrence.

Instead of answering him properly, Louis mutters, “Wait five minutes,” before shutting the door in Harry’s face.

The first minute of those five is spent leaning against the door, wondering what the fuck is going on and if he’s stepped into an alternate universe. The other four are spent digging through his bags for a decent outfit. His hair is hopeless and Harry is already seen him in his boxers and a holey t-shirt. There’s no point in trying to impress him now.

 _And there’s no reason to impress him either_ , Louis reminds himself forcefully, running a hand through his messy fringe before opening the door again.

Harry is still there, leaning against the wall opposite Louis’ door, toying with his necklace. When he sees Louis, he immediately straightens back up and gives him a confused look. “What just happened?”

“We’re going to lunch, Curly,” Louis replies instead of answering before walking towards the lift. It takes Harry a few seconds to catch up but when he does, he’s grinning so widely that Louis worries his cheeks must hurt.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” he mutters but he can’t help the small smile that graces his own lips as the lift doors close behind them.

✿ ✿ ✿

Suddenly he’s having every meal with Harry. He’s not quite sure how it came to be but it happened and now it’s strange not to have long legs bumping into his underneath the table or to hear a burst of giggles every few minutes.

Sometimes Niall and Zayn join them and when that happens, Louis has to remind himself to tamper down the fond because he really is a little too endeared when it comes to Harry.

It’s just that Harry is bad jokes and sweet smiles and brutal honesty. He’s real in ways Louis will never be and Louis can’t help but want to know every single thing about him.

It’s bad. It’s really bad. Liam is going to murder him if he finds out.

He does his best to keep Liam preoccupied with his daily events which range from day to day. One day he’s sneaking through the air vents to listen to private conversations between the higher ups of Walsh’s Ballet School and the next day he’s hacking into the school’s mainframe and snooping through all their files, sending the encrypted ones to Liam to investigate.

Louis is doing his job but he’s also spending a lot of his time with Harry Styles. He does his best not to let it exceed their meals but it’s harder than he thought it would be.

The rest of the class schedules private lessons with him so his days are almost entirely booked. His nights and weekends are his only time off. During that time Louis finds himself pouring over every second word in the packets Liam sends him weekly, to ensure he doesn’t get caught knowing nothing.

It’s a bit of a struggle but Louis pushes through and he manages. He refuses to fuck this mission up.

✿ ✿ ✿

Louis is crawling through the air ducts, preparing to plant a chip in Walsh’s assistant’s room, when he hears someone mutter, “Jesus, fuck, can you watch where you’re going?”

Immediately Louis stops moving, eyes straight ahead as he tries to gauge where the sound came from. It turns out he doesn’t have to wonder for long because a blond head pops into view. “Zayn, I swear to fucking God, I will kill you. Stop bumping into my legs! You know how my knee gets!”

“You complain too much,” comes a bored drawl.

Niall only looks up when he’s near face to face with Louis and when he sees him, his blue eyes widen to the size of saucers and he immediately flails backwards.

“What the fuck?” Zayn shouts from behind him. “Why the fuck are you kicking me, you Irish twat?”

“Move back,” Niall yells, already scooting in the opposite direction, panic visible in his eyes. “Move the fuck _back_.”

Louis raises his eyebrows and doesn’t say a thing.

“Can you tell me why the fuck I’m moving back?” Zayn retorts, clearly not moving to Niall’s evident dismay.

“Because Mr. Sharpe is fucking staring at me right now and we’re crawling through the air ducts like we’re in a fucking spy movie, Zayn,” Niall hisses, all the while inching backwards.

Louis starts at the word spy but Niall doesn’t seem to notice, preoccupied with moving as far away from Louis as possible.

It’s clear that the air ducts weren’t meant to take so much weight because the metal creaks and Louis sighs, one of his hands coming up to hold on tightly to the pipes above his head.

Seconds later, the metal gives away underneath his body and he hears two identical crashes as Niall and Zayn fall to the floor. Louis hangs on by the pipe before jumping down, landing evenly on his feet.

Niall is rubbing the back of his head with a pout on his face and Zayn is brushing his shoulders off with an impassive look on his face.

Louis takes a quick glance around the room to discover they’re in a storage closet, so thankfully no one else has witnessed how ridiculous they look.

“Do you want to explain to me what you were doing?” Louis asks, taking on a disapproving tone. If this were five years ago, his heart would be racing in his chest but now putting on a pretense is second nature to him. It’s almost sad.

“Uh,” Niall stammers before looking to Zayn for help.

“Niall’s got a crush on Barbara so he was sneaking over to her dorm,” Zayn informs without so much as blinking an eyelid. Rather, he's expectantly staring at Niall.

Louis quirks a singular eyebrow. “Is this true, Mr. Horan?”

Niall nods vigorously. “Sorry,” he apologizes, cheeks burning red before getting to his feet, offering Zayn a hand up which the tanner man declines in favor of standing up by himself.

“Don’t do it again,” Louis instructs firmly before opening the door to the storage closet. “Now both of you get lost and for God’s sake, Niall, don’t bother Barbara.”

They both nod before slipping past Louis through the door.

Zayn pauses for a second though, cocking his head as he looks at Louis. “Why were _you_ in the air duct, Mr. Sharpe?”

“I was looking for students like you,” Louis retorts easily.

Zayn stares at him for a second, as though seeing straight through him and it makes Louis slightly uncomfortable but then Zayn nods and jogs after Niall who’s halfway down the hall.

After they’ve both turned the corner, Louis stares at the metal on the ground and groans quietly to himself. He takes out his phone to shoot Liam a quick text, _Can’t plant the chip right now , how do I fix an air duct ??_

The reply he receives is what he assumes is the equivalent of an exasperated sigh followed by in depth instructions.

Louis is glad he has Liam.

✿ ✿ ✿

When he sees Niall and Zayn in the class the next morning, both refuse to look him in the eye and neither does Barbara. It would be funny if Louis weren’t more concerned about the fact that the students clearly know how to use the air ducts to move around the school.

He’s not sure what kind of institution they’re running around here if the students feel the need to go to such extreme lengths for something as simple as seeing their crush. Louis can’t even mention it to any of his superiors without having to explain why he also was in the air duct so he keeps his mouth shut and spends a lot of time contemplating the inner workings of the school.

So far, he’s realized there’s a bit of an hierarchy, with the most experienced dancers at the top of the food chain. He suspects there’s foul play somewhere because some of the older dancers, who’ve been there for years upon years are in the beginner’s class whereas students like Karen, who’s a simple eighteen years old, is in his senior class.

Louis isn’t sure what it is but he knows it has nothing to do with his mission so he tries to keep it out of his mind. It’s one of the many things that are distracting him.

The main distraction is Harry but Louis refuses to admit that, even to himself.

He’s managed to cut down their time to only their meals, some of which he misses on purpose and their individual lessons. He doesn’t pay attention to Harry any more than he pays attention to Cara during their group lessons, reminding himself to stay unbiased.

Louis can’t blow this mission because of a twenty-one year old with a pretty smile. Well, not just a pretty smile but... Louis can’t deny that his favorite thing about Harry is his smile.

After their group lesson one day, Louis is putting away his things when Harry comes up to him, smiling hopefully. “We’re having a party tonight,” he says quietly, glancing over his shoulder periodically. “It’s in the tennis court in the gym. Fifth floor. Will you come?”

Louis glances at him momentarily, taking in his flushed cheeks and the stray curl brushing against the base of his neck before meeting Harry’s eyes. “Am I invited?”

Harry shrugs, licking his lip as he glances over his shoulder again. “Well… as long as you don’t bust the party, you are.”

“Oh?” Louis replies, suddenly more interested. “You lot are throwing a secret party?”

“Keep your voice down,” Harry immediately requests, reaching out to clutch Louis’ arm with wide eyes. “You’re going to get us both in trouble, Alex.”

Louis chuckles quietly before gently prying Harry’s fingers off of his arm. “Trouble is my middle name,” he informs. It’s actually William but it’s better if Harry doesn’t know that. “I’ll see if I can come. I don’t make any promises.”

Harry sighs but nods. Then he gets a mischievous look on his face before he leans in and whispers, “I’m not just good at ballet dancing.”

Louis isn’t sure what to make of that as Harry smirks and twirls away. It’s only after Harry has left the hall that Louis understands the implication of Harry’s words.

It sends a shiver down his spine and he immediately promises himself that he will _not_ go to the party. He won’t.

So he doesn’t.

There used to be a time when Louis might’ve given into the temptation of going. To the promise of Harry’s hips swinging and his eyes glowing beneath strobe lights but now Louis knows better.

The next morning, Harry sleeps though breakfast. A quarter to eleven, Louis finds him sitting in the rec room, swaddled in a blanket, staring out the window.

“Hey,” Louis greets, sitting down next to Harry and nudging him gently. “You alright?”

Harry turns and blinks languidly at him before smiling slowly. “Perfect.”

Louis smiles back and picks up one of the magazines lying on the table in front of them, content to flip through it. Harry seems like he’s half asleep and Louis doesn’t want to wake him up if he wants to doze a little longer.

“Hey, Alex?” Harry speaks up after a few minutes, watching him with eyes that are incredibly soft in the morning sunlight.

For a minute, Louis doesn’t register that Harry is talking to him but then a few seconds later, he remembers and he nods at Harry without looking up from the magazine. “What’s up?”

Harry chews on his bottom lip nervously, eyes still soft before murmuring, “Why didn’t you come last night?”

Louis glances up briefly, meeting Harry’s eyes before focusing his attention back on the magazine, turning the page. “Just wasn’t my scene. I’m sorry, Harry.”

Beside him, Harry sighs quietly but doesn’t say anything else. After a while, Harry starts quietly humming a song that Louis doesn’t recognize. It’s soothing though and Louis’ lips turn up after a while as he continues flicking through pages.

✿ ✿ ✿

Harry likes to sing.

It’s not something Louis ever expected to find out but he finds himself spending the mornings with Harry more often than not and Harry likes to sing along to whatever tune is playing on the radio.

Whenever he catches Louis staring though, he immediately stops and gets back to the task at hand, flushing.

Louis doesn’t tell him but he thinks Harry has one of the nicest voices he’s ever heard. It almost isn’t fair how talented Harry is except that Harry has the amazing personality to match. If it were anyone else, they’d be intolerable but with Harry, it only serves to make him more charismatic.

Even when Harry beats him at Scrabble, Louis can’t find it in himself to be upset. Not when Harry is grinning brightly down at the board where it says _quetzals_. Louis told him it wasn’t a word but Harry forced him to look it up and now here they are, with Harry doing a tiny victory dance and Louis watching on in exasperation.

They made a bet over the camera Louis had brought to their group lessons one day. He’d brought it to take pictures of the dance hall to send to Liam but Harry had seen it and become near-obsessed so when Harry timidly suggested they should play for it, Louis rolled his eyes but agreed nonetheless.

“Is there anything you’re not good at?” Louis jokes, shaking his head as he clears up the Scrabble board and Harry fiddles with the switches of the camera. Louis deleted all the pictures from it before handing it off, careful even in his fondness for Harry.

Harry answers almost immediately. “Footie.”

Louis looks up at from the table at that, eyebrows raised. “Really now?”

Harry nods, sulking slightly. “I’m an absolute klutz.”

“You?” Louis asks in disbelief, eyes widening. “Are you sure? I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone as graceful as you.”

It’s a fact but Harry still blushes and a warm feeling pools in Louis’ stomach that he decidedly ignores. “Yeah, when I’m dancing. Any other time… I’m not exactly the most agile person.”

“How come I’ve never seen you so much as trip?” Louis accuses, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. “Your story isn’t adding up, Harry.”

“I swear!” Harry protests, lips parting in incredulity. “You can ask anyone. It’s a surprise that I haven’t broken a limb.”

Louis considers his expression for a second, his knitted brows and pouty lips before grinning and shaking his head. “I don’t believe you,” he replies whimsically, pushing his chair so he’s leaning on the back legs. He’s careful to balance himself so he doesn’t fall over.

“Ask anyone,” Harry insists, nodding his head towards the people around them.

Barbara and Cara are sitting on one of the couches, painting their nails. They’d painted Harry’s nails earlier, a nice shade of gold that Louis takes to admire every few minutes. Not far from them, Zayn and Niall are watching some trashy reality television show. Karen and Camila are sitting going through some magazine, gossiping about celebrities. There are other students milling about but Louis doesn’t recognize them.

“Fine, I will,” Louis retorts to Harry, raising an eyebrow before shouting, “Oi! Camila!”

Camila looks up from her magazine to give him a confused look. “Yes, Mr. Sharpe?”

“Is is true that Harold over here is terrible at footie? And don’t you dare go lying to me because I promise you I’ll know, love,” he threatens, pointing a finger jokingly.

Beside Camila, Karen snorts and shakes her head. “There’s no reason to lie to you. Anyone could tell you that Harry is the worst footie player to grace this planet.”

Camila nods in agreement. “The absolute worst. Sorry, Harry.”

Harry shrugs good-naturedly but he’s looking at Louis with a twinkle in his eye. “Told you, Alex,” he teases.

Louis rolls his eyes and leans further back on his chair. He realizes his mistake a second later and while he has the time to catch himself, he knows he shouldn’t. Anyone else would fall so it’s his responsibility to do the same.

Just before he can crash to the ground, he finds himself suspended in air. He glances down and sees Harry’s foot, holding the leg of his chair at bay. It should’ve been near impossible for Harry to cross the distance with his leg fast enough to stop Louis from falling, much less continue to hold up under Louis’ weight but the evidence is right in front of Louis’ eyes.

He blinks slowly as Harry helps to lower the chair back to the ground before glancing up at the other man. “Uh. Thanks,” he says carefully before clearing his head. It must’ve been a chance of luck. He quickly changes the subject before his mind can linger too long on it. “Since you’re apparently so bad at footie, how about I teach you?”

Harry lights up and Louis tries to ignore the way their ankles are hooked beneath the table now. “That would be wonderful,” Harry just about _gushes_.

“Yeah, alright,” Louis agrees, before flicking Harry’s arm lightly and pointing at the empty Scrabble board. “I want a rematch. And no using big, unknown words to cheat this time, you wanker.”

Harry grins cheekily and nods.

Somehow, Louis ends up winning the next round. He has a sneaky suspicion Harry let him because he even let Louis use the word _Za_. He doesn’t speak up on it though, instead boasting to the room at whole that he’s the new champion at Scrabble and that Harry has to give up the title.

Harry only giggles in reply before snapping a picture of Louis’ victory pose.

✿ ✿ ✿

When Harry said he was terrible at footie, he wasn’t lying.

Louis finds himself laughing in amusement more often than not, watching as Harry kicks up grass and falls to the ground and misses goal after goal.

Eventually, Harry pouts at him. “You said you would teach me!” he complains, throwing up his arms in defeat before he lowers them and crosses his arms across his chest petulantly.

Louis is too busy laughing to answer because Harry just kicked the football so far to the side that it rolled off field and straight into a den of bunnies, disturbing them from their afternoon slumber.

“I can’t believe you did that!” Louis shouts delightedly, wiping the tears from his eyes as he straightens back up. “Oh, you’ve made my day Styles. Really, you have.”

“You’re a terrible teacher,” Harry grumbles, kicking up some more grass before picking his camera up from where he’d set it beneath a tree while Louis watches on fondly.

He bounds over to Harry and slings an arm around the other man’s shoulders, even though he has to tiptoe to be resting comfortably. “Hey Haz, you know I’m just taking the piss, yeah? I think it’s great that you’re making the effort to learn something you’re not good at.”

Harry leans against him, making it easier for Louis to keep his arm around him. “Can we call it a day?”

“Yeah, of course,” Louis agrees, squeezing Harry’s shoulder lightly before asking, “You have plans for tonight?”

Harry tenses underneath his arm and doesn’t say anything for a while so Louis hesitantly drops his arm to his side. “You don’t have to tell me,” he clarifies, slowly.

“Uh,” Harry says before shrugging. “I have some classes. That aren’t ballet.”

Louis watches him curiously. “At Walsh’s though?”

Harry nods, looking uncomfortable. “Yeah. It’s just… other stuff.”

Louis can see that this topic is making Harry feel uneasy and it rubs him wrong to see Harry that restless so he immediately changes the subject. “Want to grab a snack at the ice cream shop down the street before then?”

Harry immediately relaxes and the difference is blatantly obvious. “I’d love to. They have the best mint chocolate chip ice cream. That’s your favorite, right?”

The words startles Louis for a second. Rarely do people remember tidbits about him, especially insignificant ones like his favorite ice cream flavor. Even Liam forgets what he takes for his tea after five years of friendship.

“Yeah,” he breathes quietly, lowering his eyes to the ground and nodding to himself faintly. “Yeah, Harry.”

Later, Harry will take a dozen pictures of Louis with ice cream covering his face while giggling and Louis will respond by shoving Harry’s ice cream down his shirt and the both of them will get kicked out of the shop.

A random lady on the street will happily take a photo of the two of them, covered in sticky ice cream and painful looking grins on their face.

Harry will playfully lick ice cream off Louis’ cheek before rushing off to wherever he has to be and Louis will stand by himself, ice cream dripping off him and a fond look on his eyes.

It’s just another day.

✿ ✿ ✿

Louis is pretty sure Harry has noticed that he can’t dance. He must’ve because whenever Louis is teaching, he catches Harry snorting and going starry eyed with amusement and taking photos instead of paying attention to whatever Louis is saying.

Which is why he’s confused when Harry knocks on his door on a Tuesday night.

“What?” he asks Harry, sliding his switchblade into his back pocket. Then he notices Harry is in tights, a loose fitting shirt and his ballet flats. He’s almost positive he knows what that means.

Harry grins. “Hi Alex. I was wondering if you could help me with ‘danse d'Aurore avec le fuseau’ in Act 1?”

“Jesus,” Louis mutters under his breath, leaning against the door before nodding reluctantly. “But I’m not changing for you.”

That makes Harry pout and Louis grumbles as he shuts the door in Harry’s face and goes to change into tights. He leaves his jumper on and when he comes out of his room, he glares at Harry, daring him to say something.

Harry just leans in and kisses Louis’ cheek happily before twirling his way to the lift. He’s an absolute twat. Louis is rather fond of it.

With an exasperated sigh, Louis follows after him.

On their way to the senior dance hall, they pass Melissa who stares at Louis meaningfully but doesn’t say anything. Louis isn’t sure if that was a good or bad look and it doesn’t help to settle his nerves.

Harry is the best dancer in the class—he knows it and so does everyone else. He’s been cast as one of the lead roles in every play he’s been involved in. Louis probably shouldn’t know that but he couldn’t help but use Liam’s laptop to look Harry up and what he found was admittedly impressive.

For a dancer of only twenty-one, Harry is beyond his years in talent. Louis watched more than a couple videos of his performances only to find he's not nearly as breathtaking as he is in real life.

So it makes no sense why he’s asking for Louis’ help when they both know Louis is nowhere near as knowledgeable on anything ballet-related as Harry is.

“I really don’t think I’ll be much help,” Louis says dryly but follows Harry into the senior dance hall anyways. The room is lit up by the moonlight shining through the windows and Harry skips over to the stereo where his phone is seemingly plugged in.

It starts playing the music from Act 1 and Louis sighs, sitting himself down somewhere that he's able to watch Harry.

Harry starts from the introduction so Louis knows it’s going to take a while for him to reach ‘danse d'Aurore avec le fuseau’ but he doesn’t mind. It wasn’t as though he was going to sleep.

Watching Harry dance helps him learn just as much as his notes do, if not more because with Harry, it’s a live presentation. Every spin and every jump Harry does is enticing and beautiful and Louis doesn’t think he could look away if he tried.

Louis has done his research though. He knows how hard this ballet is and he knows how hard it is to memorize the steps. It's another reason why he’s amazed at the fact that Harry is so far ahead of all of the other dancers and doesn’t even miss a single step. From what Louis knows, Act 1 is one of the most grueling and difficult parts of the entire ballet and Harry is the main star of it.

Even now, Harry doesn’t look bothered, practically bouncing across the floor.

Briefly, Louis can’t help but wonder if Harry brought him down here just to show off. After some time, Louis notices his camera (now Harry’s) on the floor and decides to take a few pictures of Harry twirling artfully.

When Harry reaches the the ninth scene of Act 1, the scene right before 'danse d'Aurore avec le fuseau', he stops to beckon Louis over.

Louis gets to his feet in one quick hop, setting the camera down and then walking over to where Harry is, eyebrows raised pointedly. “So what’s the problem?” he asks, putting a hand on his hip.

He stops breathing when Harry takes a step closer so they’re just barely a step apart from one another. He can feel Harry’s breath ghosting along his cheek. “I fall in the next scene, Alex,” Harry says quietly. “After I get pricked by the needle.”

Louis nods slowly, not trusting himself to speak.

“I’m afraid to fall,” Harry whispers. “So every time I do this scene, it feels like my nerves are out of control. I don’t know how to calm down.”

His eyes are so green up close. They’re spring leaves, bursting to life after a particularly bitter winter.

“What would help?” Louis murmurs, searching Harry’s eyes for the answer. Everything about Harry feels so radiant, as though Louis is breathing in the sun.

Harry shakes his head gently and one of his curls brushes against Louis’ cheek, making him shiver lightly. “I don’t know.”

Louis stares at him for a quiet beat before licking his lips and taking a small step back. “Dance the scene for me and I’ll try to figure out how to fix what’s wrong.”

He expects Harry to listen—that is rule four, after all—so when Harry shakes his head again, Louis is confused. “What?” he asks, glancing up at Harry through his eyelashes. “Why not?”

Harry doesn’t answer him. He just takes another step in Louis’ direction so the distance is the same it was before. When Harry’s hands reach for his waist, he doesn’t move away. He lets Harry’s hands rest there even though they’re freezing cold to the point they nearly burn. Harry tugs lightly until Louis is as close as he can be without being pressed against Harry.

“What are you doing?” Louis asks but he’s scared to know the answer.

Harry is quiet for a moment and his fingers feel like they’re burning past the fabric of Louis’ jumper, branding his skin. “Can I kiss you?”

This is where Louis should walk away and leave Harry to pirouette and cambré by himself in the faint moonlight shining through the windows. He is a spy and Harry is a dancer. There are lines that should not be crossed.

Louis surges forward.

Their mouths crash into each other and Harry gasps softly but then his fingers tighten where they’re holding on Louis’ waist and he leans into it.

There’s not a single thought in Louis’ mind aside from licking the taste of peppermint out of Harry’s mouth. His own arms reach up to wrap around Harry’s neck, giving him more leverage to lean up on his toes and kiss more forcefully.

Harry kisses the way he dances. Softly but passionately—with intent.

Louis presses against Harry, carding his fingers through the long curls that wind around Harry’s neck and pass his shoulders. All he wants is to be closer.

It feels like his entire body is on fire, raging with the flames of a million burning stars. Harry is still a blizzard, with cold hands that chill Louis to the bone. It’s hot and then it’s cold and there’s no in between.

When Louis pulls away, it’s because he feels incredibly dizzy, almost as though he’s intoxicated by Harry’s kiss alone. He’s never felt this way before.

He takes one look at Harry, whose eyes are glassy and lips raw, and immediately pulls him closer, pressing their lips together again. Louis can’t help when he bites down on Harry’s bottom lip, eliciting a quiet groan from the younger man. It’s been tempting him ever since he noticed how often Harry bites down on his lips, nervously and excitedly.

Louis knows he has to stop at some point for air but he can’t think about that when he’s finally kissing Harry.

Harry’s the one to pull away, looking just as overwhelmed as Louis feels and the brightness in his eyes is the worst thing Louis has ever seen because it makes his heart skip a beat and his stomach flip pleasantly.

“Dance for me now,” Louis whispers.

Harry nods and they step apart.

When Harry begins the scene, Louis stands there and lets him dance in circles around him and for the first time in his entire life, Louis thinks he understands what it is to be real.

✿ ✿ ✿

“You’ve been spending an awful lot of time with that Harry bloke,” Liam says during their weekly skype session.

Louis pauses from where he’s stuffing his mouth with baked goods. Technically it’s illegal contraband but so is the gun sitting on the top of his duffle bag. He’s yet to fully unpack, mostly because he’s lazy. “And how the bloody hell would you know that?” he asks, narrowing his eyes.

Liam stares at him like he’s an idiot. Louis admits there is a small possibility that he is one.

“I monitor the cameras in the school from time to time,” Liam reminds slowly, eyebrows raised, “and you’ve been spending an awful lot of time with that Harry bloke.”

He needs a quick-witted response immediately. “Stop spying on me, twat,” is what comes out of his mouth. Not his best work.

“You’re awfully defensive,” Liam comments casually.

“Well maybe I wouldn’t be if you minded your own business,” Louis mutters, stuffing another cookie into his mouth. “Don’t we have actual espionage shit to discuss?”

“The fact you just said ‘actual espionage shit’ is so alarming to me, I can’t even begin to express it,” Liam laments, shaking his head. “And I actually don’t have anything else to report today. Did you want to tell me anything?”

Louis thinks back on what he did today: taught his group class with his notes in his hand, had a private lesson with Cara and Niall and then sat in the garden behind the school, braiding flowers into Harry’s hair.

Another thing is that Harry has taken to calling him Alex in front of other people and Louis isn’t sure whether it’s a territorial thing but it makes his chest constrict because that’s not him. He’s not Alex. He’s Louis.

He doesn’t exactly want to share any of that with Liam.

The part of the day that would actually interest Liam is probably when Louis was walking past the receptionist Lauren’s desk to see her arguing with one of the school’s teenage students, informing him he was by no means allowed to leave the building.

But Louis has already told Liam about that and they both agreed that the rules implemented at the school are more than a little sketchy.

“Not particularly,” Louis tells him, shutting his Tupperware of cookies and putting them back in his duffle bag, right above the gun. “How’s Sophia?”

Liam’s face immediately brightens and he launches into a story about how his and Sophia’s dog, Rosco, learned a new trick today. Louis lets him go on for a few minutes, listening attentively. Bringing Sophia up is always a good way to change subjects with Liam.

He’s still listening to Liam when he hears someone outside his room. He squints at his door, unsure whether to be worried or not. His hand immediately goes to his side where he has another gun and he wraps his fingers around base of it. He does all of this without alerting Liam because Liam seems content going on about whatever he’s going on about and it could all just be a false alarm.

The only thing is that it’s past eleven which is when lights go out. Louis has been skyping with Liam in the dark, passing the time since he knows he’s not going to sleep. No one else is awake at this time—Louis scouted the whole place out his second night at the school, checking to see if everyone followed the rules that Melissa informed him of.

When his door knob turns, Louis’ grip tightens on his gun and he moves his laptop discreetly. The change in angle must make Liam realize something is happening because he immediately goes silent before quietly saying, “Louis?”

Louis holds a finger over his mouth, making a general shush motion, eyes still focused on the door.

The door opens and a dark figure creeps in and Louis makes to lift his gun before the person takes off the hood of their jumper and their face becomes visible from the faint light of Louis’ laptop.

Louis lets out a sigh of relief and immediately chucks his gun underneath his pillow before Harry can see it.

Liam must’ve gotten the memo that everything is okay because he speaks again. “You alright, Louis?”

“Everything’s fine, Liam,” Louis tells him, raising an eyebrow at Harry who’s still standing in the darkness.

He realizes his mistake a second too late. “Louis?” Harry repeats in confusion, blinking.

“Uh,” Louis says, glancing over at Liam in panic. Liam seems to realize the mistake as well if the way his eyes are bugging out of his head is any indication. Louis thinks of a quick lie off the top of his head. “That’s—um. My middle name. Alexander Louis Sharpe.”

Harry furrows his eyebrows. “Do people call you by your middle name a lot?”

Louis frowns at the way Liam is glaring at him before he nods at Harry. “Yeah. It’s usually what I go by. That’s, uh. My best friend Liam. Liam, do you want to say hi? This is one of my students, Harry.”

He turns the laptop towards Harry, despite Liam making a cut-throat motion, seemingly adamant against becoming involved. As he expected, by the time Liam is face to face with Harry, he’s smiling politely. “Hi. It’s nice to meet you, Harry.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, Liam,” Harry replies, equally as polite although he’s still staring at Louis in confusion.

Louis grits his teeth, realizing just how badly he’s fucked up before he turns the laptop back around to face him. “I’ll talk to you later, yeah?”

Before Liam can say anything, Louis ends the skype call and shuts the laptop so the only light in the room is the faint moonlight seeping in through his blinds. There’s a nervous buzzing under his skin and he presses his lips together, forcing himself to remain calm before turning to look at Harry again.

“How come you never told me you like to go by Louis?” Harry asks, frowning. If Louis is seeing things right, it looks like the emotion written across Harry’s face right now is hurt. Not a good sign.

“It just never came up,” Louis tries, wincing at how bad of an answer that is. “You can call me like that if you’d like…”

Harry is still frowning but slowly he nods. “It suits you,” Harry says in a small voice, looking unsure of himself. “You look like a Louis.”

Louis offers him a crooked smile that’s probably not half as convincing as he wants it to be. “Thanks, Haz.”

When Harry smiles back slowly, if hesitantly, a weight lifts off Louis’ shoulders. Everything is okay. This situation is redeemable.

Then another thought occurs to him. “Why’re you in my room at midnight?” he inquires, sliding off his bed and getting to his feet.

This time it’s Harry’s turn to stammer. When he finally manages an answer, he’s so flushed that Louis can see it, even in the darkness.

“I couldn’t sleep…” Harry admits, chewing on his bottom lip. “You, um, mentioned you have insomnia so I thought I’d take my chances and come see if you were awake.”

For a second, Louis is distracted by how sweet the gesture is before he remembers the alarms that are rigged throughout the building to make sure everyone follows the curfew. There are motion sensors in all of the stairwells and the elevator stops running after eleven.

“How did you get up here?” Louis wonders in disbelief.

Harry gives him another confused look. “I just took the lift up?”

It’s a lie. It’s the first lie Harry has ever told him and Louis doesn’t know why but it makes him feel inexplicably cold.

Immediately Louis’ brain works to make sense of the lie—it’s not a blatant lie because Louis isn’t supposed to have a mapped layout in his head of each trigger in the building. If Louis followed curfew and never left his room, he’d have no idea what traps lay right outside his door and Harry knows that.

As it is, Louis knows those traps far too intimately.

Maybe Harry doesn’t want Louis to know how much he risked coming up here. Surely Harry has more knowledge on these traps than the average student—he’s been here since he was six. He must’ve snuck out before. He knows his way around. He must also know how to use the air ducts like Niall and Zayn. That’s a reasonable explanation.

Louis breathes out and nods, sitting back down on his bed. “C’mere,” he says, patting the spot next to him.

As Harry moves to sit beside him, Louis discreetly pulls his pillow closer, hiding his gun better. It’s dark enough in his room that Harry shouldn’t see it regardless but it’s better to be safe than sorry.

“Do you want to talk? That might help tire you out,” Louis suggests when Harry remains silent, staring at his lap resolutely.

Harry glances at Louis with a thoughtful expression before nodding. “What do you want to talk about?” the younger man asks and his fingers brush against Louis’.

“You,” Louis answers more honestly than he intends to. He doesn’t take it back. “Tell me about your life here.”

There’s a strange silence following Louis’ request as Harry stares at him, almost unseeingly before he abruptly turns his head and begins to speak. “It’s just been dancing.”

Louis purses his lips. “What about other stuff? You have other hobbies, right?”

Harry looks very concentrated, his eyebrows knitting together as he thinks of an answer. “I mean… I don’t really know. There’s not much to do around here aside from dancing. That’s my life.”

At his answer, Louis can’t help but cock his head in perplexity. “Oh come on, Haz. Surely you don’t just dance? What do you do with your spare time?”

“Nothing,” Harry answers immediately.

“What?” Louis replies, leaning closer, trying to gauge Harry’s response. “What do you mean nothing? You don’t just bloody sit around, do you?”

Harry shrugs, shrinking in on himself slightly. Louis immediately feels bad because he knows Harry is extremely delicate and Louis needs to be careful with the way he words himself around him. With Harry, Louis has to be soft, not sharp and jagged edges.

“Hey, babe, listen,” Louis murmurs, wrapping an arm around Harry’s shoulders. “I’m just wondering, is all. I want to get to know you.”

Harry draws a ragged breath before shaking his head. “Can we talk about you instead?”

Louis stares at him for a second, unsure what to do. Eventually he realizes he’d rather not see Harry upset so he nods, taking Harry’s hand in his and intertwining their fingers. “Of course, love.”

“Tell me about your family,” Harry requests quietly and his eyes are resting on their hands. His voice cracks in the middle of his sentence and Louis bites his tongue to stop from saying some accidental lovey dovey bullshit to comfort him.

Louis’ family is a bit of a sore subject though and the fact he’s willing to talk about it all should be a huge warning for him that he’s getting in too deep.

“I have six siblings,” Louis says, smiling faintly. “Five sisters and one brother. Lottie is the oldest and she’s seventeen. After her is Felicite who’s fifteen. Then we have the first pair of twins, Daisy and Phoebe. They’re both eleven. And last but not least, we have the second pair of twins, Ernest and Doris. They’re both still wee. Just a little less than two years old, I think.”

“Wow,” Harry breathes, looking amazed. “That’s a lot. You must’ve been a great big brother.”

Louis snorts, shaking his head. “Not really. I walked out on them when I was eighteen. I haven’t even properly met Ernie and Doris. I mean, I’ve seen them from pics and skype but… I’ve never held them in my arms or anything.”

Harry’s lips twist into a frown. “Why not? You’re not stuck here like I am. Why don’t you go see them?”

 _Stuck here like I am_. Louis’ mind catalogues those words and they stick to the back of his brain like a sticky-note. _Stuck here like I am_.

“Just been busy,” Louis replies, searching Harry’s face for any sign he may be unhappy. What did those words mean? Stuck implies something that makes Louis’ heart ache. “I miss them though. A lot more than I’d care to admit.”

Harry is quiet a moment before he whispers, “Sometimes I miss my parents too. I know I didn’t really know them but… sometimes I swear I can hear my mum’s laugh or see my dad’s smile,” he pauses, teeth pressing into his bottom lip. “That sounds stupid, doesn’t it?”

“Not at all,” Louis assures, squeezing Harry’s shoulder. “If they could see you now, they’d be so proud of you, Harry. You’ve accomplished so much at such a young age. You have so much talent and so much heart. No one could even compare.”

He hears Harry inhale sharply before the younger man nods slowly and leans his head against Louis’ shoulder. “Thank you, Louis.”

Louis raises Harry’s hand to his lips, brushing a kiss against his knuckles. He faintly notices they’re bruised but the thought doesn’t stay on his mind for long. “You don’t have to thank me for the truth.”

Harry’s cold breath puffs out against Louis’ neck and he says nothing more. He doesn’t have to. He’s bared enough soul for one night.

Maybe Louis should learn how to return the favor.

✿ ✿ ✿

Five months ago, Louis was on a mission in Bulgaria when he swore he saw his younger sisters Daisy and Phoebe and in his distraught state, he let the mission’s subject slip from his grasp. The SIS has been wary of him since that mission and he’s been to three meetings reminding him how important it is not to lose sight of what’s important—to not get distracted.

It’s why he’s only been on two missions since then, both insignificant in the grand scheme of things. The Glasgow mission still leaves a bad taste in his mouth from how pointless it was.

So on one hand when Liam enlisted him for this mission, he knew that Louis was sick of sitting at a desk and wasting his time away. He probably recruited him for the mission because of that exact reason, if Louis is honest. Liam is a better friend than Louis deserves.

On the other hand, Louis still has an abysmal knowledge of ballet at best and is positive almost anyone else would’ve been better suited for this mission.

He’s not sure if his boredom is worth risking what could be a successful mission but at the same time, Louis thinks he might actually go insane if he has to go back to SIS headquarters and satisfy himself with drawing on napkins again. He also doesn’t think he can handle leaving Harry behind.

Louis will just have to figure this out and try not to fuck up too badly. Liam is always just a simple text away if Louis needs help. If it gets really bad and Louis thinks he can’t complete the mission, he’ll bow out gracefully.

That’s what good agents do.

And Louis Tomlinson, Agent 028, is a good agent.

✿ ✿ ✿

Louis is in the middle of a private lesson with Zayn when a small child runs into the dance hall, out of breath.

Zayn doesn’t falter in step but he does slow down slightly, eyebrows raised and Louis waves him off, muttering, “Keep dancing,” before walking over to the little girl. “What’s up, sweetheart?”

The girl takes a deep breath before her words come pouring out. “Are you Mr. Sharpe? If you are, you have a visitor waiting for you in the lobby. He’s very tall and handsome and his head looks fuzzy. Ms. Jauregui told me to tell you that he said it was urgent he see you right away.”

Louis blinks at her. She blinks back at him.

“Thank you, darling,” he eventually says, faintly smiling at her. “Sorry you had to run all the way over here.”

“It’s just part of my training,” the girl dismisses before she runs away from him, outside the dance hall.

Louis stares after her in bewilderment. “Since when is running around part of the training here?” he asks the room at large.

The only person present is Zayn though and he answers, “You’d be surprised,” offhandedly before he continues to lift his left leg above his head with ease.

He’s not sure what to make of that so he settles for squinting at Zayn. “Do you mind if we cut our lesson short?”

Zayn falls flat on his feet before shaking his head, running a hand through his hair. They’ve been at it for an hour and half and Zayn has barely broken a sweat. “I’ll just practice in my room. ‘S fine.”

“Thanks, Zayn,” Louis says gratefully and the younger man waves it off, walking over to the side of the room to grab a bottle of water.

Louis doesn’t stick around to watch him drink, instead grabbing his things and practically jogging out of the room. When he gets to the receptionist’s area, he nods at Lauren who doesn’t acknowledge him, muttering in low tones on the phone.

He sees Liam sitting in one of the spare chairs, drumming his fingers against his leg.

“Why the bloody hell are you here?” Louis jokes, setting his stuff down.

Liam’s head snaps up immediately and a bright smile lights up his face before he gets to his feet and envelops Louis in a tight hug.

Louis huffs a laugh into Liam’s shoulder and hugs him back. He remembers meeting a seventeen-year old Liam who shied away from being touched and was a stickler for rules. It’s refreshing to see how much he’s changed in just five years. Louis used to think Liam would always be the stuck up prick that he met back then.

Then again, Liam grew up into this profession. His parents before him also worked for the SIS and he’s known it was what he wanted to do since he was little.

Back then, Louis didn’t take the time to think about that. Now he reflects on it and wonders if maybe he’s a bit of a judgmental twat. The answer is almost always yes.

“Why are you actually here?” Louis whispers in Liam’s ear when he’s sure Lauren isn’t watching.

“Just checking to make sure your cover isn’t compromised,” Liam mutters back, ruffling Louis’ hair and successfully messing up the quiff he spent twenty minutes perfecting.

“It’s fine,” Louis reassures, pulling away from the hug. “Want a tour?”

Liam shrugs, grabbing his bag from the chair he was sitting on. “If that scary woman lets me through, sure.”

Louis snorts, shaking his head. “Lauren isn’t scary,” he retorts, rolling his eyes as he walks over to the receptionist’s desk. “Does my mate have clearance to come in?”

She’s still on the phone but she looks up at him to nod vaguely and Louis takes that as a yes.

“Let’s go Payno!” he calls loudly behind him, making Lauren wince. “And grab my stuff while you’re at it.”

Before Louis can take one step further, he crashes into someone and it throws him so off balance they both nearly fall over. Thankfully the other person wraps their hands around Louis’ elbows and keeps them both upright.

“Sorry, sorry, I wasn’t looking where—” Louis starts to apologize before he hears a familiar giggle and looks up to see Harry beaming at him. “Oh, it’s you.”

“It’s me,” Harry agrees, another giggle slipping past his lips.

They haven’t seen each other since this morning during their group lesson. He’s not sure what Harry did between then and now but there’s sweat on his brow and he’s practically bouncing in his spot.

“Where are you off to?” Louis asks, attempting to ignore how Harry’s fingers are still pressing into his skin.

“I’m heading out with Niall,” Harry replies, nodding his head to the side and his camera jostles where it’s hanging around his neck.

Louis turns his head and is surprised to find Niall there, snickering quietly. “Niall. I didn’t see you there.”

“Do you see anything else when Harry’s the room?” Niall chortles, cheeks stained red with amusement.

“I beg your pardon?” Louis replies, feeling rather scandalized. It’s mostly because he knows Liam is overhearing all of this. “I notice your Irish runt, you arse.”

“Clearly not!” Niall retorts, laughing brightly now as he tugs at Harry’s arms. “Come on Harry, you’re going to be late.”

Harry smiles apologetically before his hands drop from where they were holding onto Louis. “I’ll see you later, Lou—uh. Alex.” He smiles a tiny bit brighter before he follows after Niall but then he pauses when he sees Liam. “Liam, right?”

Louis turns around to watch as his best friend and fellow secret agent Liam shakes hands with Harry Styles, the best dancer in Walsh’s Ballet School and the man Louis has an impossible crush on.

“Yeah,” Liam says, giving Louis a pointed look before focusing on Harry. “And you’re Harry. I’ve heard wonderful things about you from Alex.”

Harry blushes, also glancing at Louis out of the corner of his eye. “Does he talk about me a lot?”

“I can’t get him to shut up,” Liam replies a bit too seriously for Louis’ taste. Harry doesn’t seem to notice though, instead grinning, clearly pleased.

“Are you quite finished?” Louis asks impatiently, eyes narrowed at Liam who shrugs but takes a step back from Harry all the same.

“I’ll see you later,” Harry repeats gleefully, addressing Louis before he waves at Lauren and jogs after Niall, who’s standing outside the glass doors with an exasperated expression on his face.

Louis stares after him for a moment, watching him disappear down the street before Liam’s voice brings him back to reality. “Alex? I thought you were giving me a tour,” Liam reminds, giving him a knowing look.

“Uh, right,” Louis agrees before shaking his head to clear his throat. “Yeah, let’s go. You might see a student of mine or two.”

As soon as they enter an empty hallway, Liam grips his wrist tightly and pulls him to the side. Louis gives him a curious look and he watches as Liam takes out a small black device.

Liam presses a button on the device before nodding to himself and looking back at Louis. “Just disabled the cameras,” he explains before pointing an accusatory finger at Louis. “You said your identity wasn’t compromised.”

“It’s not!” Louis protests, aghast. “Harry hasn’t said anything to anyone! You saw him out there—he immediately corrected himself when he started saying my real name.”

“What I _see_ is a young man who’s prone to slipping up,” Liam argues, affronted. “You can’t risk this entire mission for the first pretty boy that smiles at you.”

That... hurts. Louis doesn't want to admit it but it hurts. Which means Louis' automatic reaction is lashing out because he doesn't handle or register emotional pain well.

“Well it’s nice to know how highly you think of me,” Louis spits, gritting his teeth. “Stop talking like you know him when you don’t. He’s not going to fucking endanger the mission. If anything, he’s more help to me than he is against me.”

Liam sighs deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose and Louis glares, ready to argue with him further if it comes to it. He’s never been one to back down from what he thinks is right.

“I just think you’re losing sight of what’s important, Louis.”

“I’m doing just fucking fine, Liam,” Louis snaps before his voice becomes sugary. “Thanks for the concern though!”

“Louis,” Liam says and his voice sounds like a warning. “Stop acting like a child.”

A muscle twitches in Louis’ jaw. He doesn’t like being talked down to. “I’m handling the mission just fine. If you have tips on what I should do better, feel free to let me know but don’t treat me like I’m stupid. You always do this and it’s fucking annoying.”

“I’m not trying to treat you like you’re stupid,” Liam insists before he groans in blatant frustration, “Louis, I just don’t want Bulgaria to happen again.”

“It won’t,” Louis asserts, leaving no room for argument. His eyes have gone hard. “Don’t use Bulgaria against me. I’m the same agent who stopped the missiles in Albania. The one who brought down the gangs in El Salvador. The one who saved the Russian Prime Minister from an assassination attempt. Don’t you _dare_ hold one instance against me when there have been so many other instances in which I’ve proven myself.”

Liam is silent for a moment before he nods apologetically. “I’m sorry, Lou.”

“Let’s just finish doing whatever you came here to do,” Louis mutters, shouldering past Liam to continue walking down the hall. For a second, he swears he sees Zayn rounding the corner but then when he looks a second later, the hall is empty.

Louis still can’t shake the feeling he’s being watched for the rest of the evening.

✿ ✿ ✿

“Where’d you go today?” Louis asks, leaning against the head of his bed. His feet are in Harry’s lap and the younger man is humming a song Louis has never heard before.

“To get a new tattoo,” Harry replies, turning his body to face Louis more.

Louis raises his eyebrows. “What’d you get?”

When Harry reaches for the bottom of his shirt and pulls it off in one swift movement, Louis has to blink multiple times to process the amount of skin Harry just revealed. There’s a plethora of tattoos that Louis hasn’t seen before, including a large butterfly on his stomach and two laurels, one on each hip.

Louis resists the urge to lean over and suck bruises into Harry’s pale, unmarked skin and sits up straighter, his feet falling off Harry’s lap. “Which one is new?”

Harry twists to the side, revealing a large bandage covering his left side. “It’s a birdcage.” He pauses before picking his camera up, handing it to Louis. “I had Niall take some pictures if you want to see it.”

Louis nods in agreement, flicking through the gallery and pausing when he sees the cage along Harry’s ribs. _Ribcage_ , Louis briefly thinks in amusement, not putting it past Harry to get it in that specific location for a pun.

Despite seeing it on the screen, Louis can’t help but set the camera down and get on his knees, crawling over to Harry and brushing his thumb along the edge of the bandage. Most tattoos have a meaning behind them—all of Louis’ certainly do. It’s why he can’t help but ask, “What does it mean?”

It seems that’s a question Harry didn’t exactly prepare for because he stills under Louis’ touch and glances down at his own tattoo, pursing his lips. “I don’t know, actually… It just felt right at the time.”

Louis runs a finger gently down Harry’s side and feels the man relax, eyes fluttering shut. “Do you feel caged?” he wonders quietly.

“Not when I’m with you,” Harry answers just as quietly, eyes blinking open slowly to meet his.

It’s not enough of an answer but it’s also too much. Louis doesn’t know how to express what he’s feeling properly so he inclines forward, his free hand cradling Harry’s jaw as he brings their lips together softly.

Harry is incredibly pliant underneath him, leaning into his touch.

Louis crawls into Harry’s lap, careful not to press against his new tattoo before bringing his other hand up to card gently through Harry’s hair.

He pulls away to press a kiss to Harry’s nose and then both his cheeks. He continues to pepper kisses all over Harry’s face until the younger man is giggling quietly, eyes lit up happily.

There’s something about Harry that is so undeniably unique, something about who he is that makes Louis feel like the luckiest man on the earth to be sitting here, kissing him, touching him, being with him.

“You’re so special, you know that?” Louis tells him and doesn’t bother waiting for an answer, pressing his mouth against Harry’s again and wrapping his arms around the younger man’s neck. “Everything about you makes me so happy,” Louis whispers when he pulls away again and he presses his thumb into Harry’s dimple, watching it sink in. “I’m glad I met you.”

When he’s with Harry, Louis admits he tends to forget the rest of the world. He forgets all his problems and his worries. It’s enough to just exist when he’s by Harry’s side.

“You make me wish I could leave here,” Harry whispers so quietly Louis isn’t sure he hears right at first.

Then he realizes he did hear right.

“What does that mean?” Louis asks, immediately pulling away from Harry to look him in the eye. The butterflies fluttering happily in his stomach feel like they've just dropped dead. “You _can_ leave, Harry.”

Harry frowns, shrugging. “I mean. I guess. I really couldn’t though.”

“Why not?” Louis presses, furrowing his eyebrows as he leans back.

Harry shrugs again, biting his bottom lip. “Wouldn’t feel right to. This is my home.”

That doesn’t sit well with Louis. “You can have a new home. Home doesn’t have to be a place, Harry. It can be the people around you, it can be a feeling. There’s no such thing as a permanent home.”

Harry’s frown deepens and he shakes his head. “I don’t want to talk about it. Can you just kiss me again?”

He normally would but right now he feels like Harry is too vulnerable and doesn’t need Louis to overwhelm him. Louis knows better. Kissing him right now would be taking advantage.

Louis sighs and leans forward to press a chaste kiss to Harry’s lips before pulling away and handing him his shirt. Harry’s response is to pout at him. “That’s it?”

“That’s it,” Louis confirms, scooting back on the bed. “C’mere darling, you should get some rest. Let’s go to sleep, yeah?”

“You’re mean,” Harry mutters petulantly but he obliges, putting his shirt back on before he crawls up the bed until he’s lying beside Louis. “Can we at least cuddle?”

Louis laughs quietly and nods. “Yeah, love. We can. Big spoon or little spoon?”

Harry blinks at him. “What?”

“Big spoon or little spoon?” Louis repeats, pulling the duvet up to cover their legs. He’s glad his bed is big enough to fit the two of them and not one of the twin beds that he’s seen in some of the students’ rooms.

“Are we talking about utensils?” Harry ask with a cute, confused frown on his face.

“No, babe, cuddling positions,” Louis clarifies amusedly, nudging Harry’s shoulder with his. “The big spoon is the one who holds the little spoon. Which one do you want to be?”

“Oh.” Harry’s expression is thoughtful for a few seconds. “Can I be the little spoon?”

Louis smiles and he knows his eyes are crinkling. “Yeah, of course. Let me just turn off the lights and then we’ll go to sleep, okay?”

Harry smiles back tiredly. “Okay.”

✿ ✿ ✿

It’s nine in the evening one night and Louis is bored. He’d been fucking around on his laptop for the last two hours but he can sit still for only so long before he finds himself doing something stupid.

Which is why he’s currently wandering through the halls of Walsh’s, looking for something to entertain him. He sees a few faculty members walking about but strangely enough, none of the students.

When Louis tries to recall what Harry told him about his plans for tonight, he comes up blank. He does remember asking but now that he thinks about it, Harry never gave him a straight answer.

Louis frowns at the water fountain beside him for a second, trying to figure out why something feels very off. He can’t quite put his finger on it and so he pulls his phone out of the front right pocket of his joggers to shoot Liam a quick text.

_Something weird is going on .. I’ll keep you updated !_

He walks around the entire first floor to find nothing remotely interesting happening. He’s about to give up on his search and go back to his room when he finds himself in a dark hallway he’s never been in before.

Louis turns on the flashlight app on his phone before meandering through, confused as to how he missed this hallway on his initial walk-through of Walsh’s.

The hallway ends abruptly with a locked door and a small screen just to the right of it, asking for the passcode. Louis furrows his eyebrows at it before taking a picture and texting it to Liam.

He receives a reply almost immediately, telling him to plug his flash drive into the bottom of the screen where there’s a USB port.

“Weird,” Louis murmurs to himself but obliges anyways.

It takes a few minutes before he receives another text with a simple code and Louis can’t help but snort, nodding to himself as he unplugs the flash drive. He types in the code and hears a consequent click as the door unlocks.

Louis turns the knob and he’s met with an array of stairs. He can hear noises now though, a few voices, the sounds of grunts and huffs. He bites his lip, checking his back pocket for his knives before breathing out quietly and walking down the stairs.

He doesn’t make a noise, having mastered the art of silence multiple years ago. It’s dark enough in the basement that there’s barely any light on him—which is good in some ways and bad in others. It’s good that he won’t get caught but it’s bad because he can’t quite grasp the situation at hand.

It takes a minute for him to reach the bottom of the stairs and when he does, he holds on tightly to the railing as he surveys what little he can see. There’s a door on the opposite end of the room and there’s light shining out from beneath it, flickering in colors.

For a moment, Louis wonders if he’s somehow stumbled upon a secret night club and that’s what this school has been hiding this entire time before realizing just how ridiculous that is. He crosses the space of the room relatively quickly before getting down on his hands and knees to see through the gap beneath the door.

At first, it takes a second for his eyes to adjust but when they do, he blinks in surprise.

He sees multiple feet and he sees them moving in a way that’s reminiscent to ballet but entirely different. It’s still a familiar scene though because it’s one he personally went through five years ago.

Training to become a secret agent.

They’re all training, feet moving in synchronized fashion, legs kicking out, twisting, bending. Louis watches for a few beats of silence before reaching in his pocket to pull out a small gadget, smaller than a coin. He places it against the bottom of the doorway, between the gap and it sticks, like Liam said it would.

It’s a small camera and Louis is grateful he thought to bring it with him.

After he finishes, he gets to his feet and practically runs out of the basement, climbing the stairs with a speed he sometimes forgets he possesses.

He makes sure the close the door behind him and sweep the area for any evidence he was there before making his way back to his room.

Later in the night, Louis finds himself whispers into his phone, eyes darting towards the door in paranoia.

“What do you mean?” Louis hisses.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Louis. I had the camera feed for all of two minutes before it cut off,” Liam replies, sounding equally distressed.

“How is that possible?” Louis wonders incredulously, shaking his head and tightening his grip on his gun. It’s become something of a coping mechanism for his frustration. “No one saw me.”

He can almost hear Liam shrug helplessly over the phone. “Maybe they did,” Liam offers, sounding worse for wear.

Louis leans back and gapes at his phone. “ _Liam_ ,” he replies, aghast before holding it to his ear again.

“I’m just saying!” Liam defends himself and he sounds even more regretful. “Maybe your cover is blown.”

“My cover is fine!” Louis protests, slightly too loud before wincing and changing the subject. “Liam… there’s something weird going on. Why are these ballet dancers in intensive training?”

“I don’t know, Lou,” Liam sighs on the other end, defeated. “But we’ll figure it out, yeah?”

Louis stares out his window at the star filled sky. Something heavy settles on his shoulders. “Yeah.”

It sounds like Liam breathes out in relief and Louis can’t muster the strength to be upset about it.

“Can—” Louis pauses, eyes darting towards the door before deciding to take a different route. “Can you send me the two minutes of footage that you caught?”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll do it right now. Text me if there are any updates?” Liam asks, apologetic almost and Louis hums noncommittally before hanging up.

He’s awake for another hour before someone quietly enters his room. Louis doesn’t even tense, easily recognizing the lanky figure in the darkness.

Harry climbs into bed with him and Louis lies there, unmoving, wondering if maybe his cover is blown after all. If he’s gotten distracted. There’s a nice, handsome man who smells like roses pressing his nose against the column of Louis’ neck and anyone else would be delighted.

Instead, he feels unsettled. It feels both wrong and completely right.

He’s reminded, once again—Harry is a dancer and Louis is a spy. Their worlds shouldn’t overlap.

Louis wishes it were more simple.

✿ ✿ ✿

When Louis watches the two minutes of the tape, he’s befuddled. He sees his students, throwing punches and kicks unflinchingly, almost robotically. As if they’ve done it a million times before.

Harry comes into the frame near the end, with that cold, blank impassive expression that Louis saw the first day he met him. Seconds after he passes the camera, the feed cuts off.

Louis rewatches it five times before slamming his (Liam’s) laptop shut in frustration. He knows this is relevant—he knows, but what he doesn’t know is why. Why are these dancers spending their nights in a basement, working themselves to the bone?

Nothing makes sense and Louis can’t even distract himself by spending time with Harry because he doesn’t trust himself not to say something he shouldn’t. He won’t risk this mission.

Eventually, Louis finds himself dressing in a nondescript outfit of black joggers and a sweatshirt before heading to the lobby. He has a quick chat with Lauren before she allows him to leave. He’s halfway out the door when he hears Harry yell, “Alex!”

Louis pretends not to hear it because his bottom lip is bleeding from how hard he’s been biting it and the inside of his palms have red crescent shaped marks from his nails digging into his skin. There are dark circles under his eyes and a pent up frustration deep in his bones that he needs to let out.

Even as he starts to walk down the block, he feels Harry coming after him and Louis does what he does best—he hides in plain sight, easily ducking into the flower shop called _We The Best Flowers_ near the ballet school.

He watches as Harry lightly jogs past the door, looking confused and then he yells, almost hesitantly, “Louis?” before he pouts at the street and turns back. Louis sighs in relief and the man behind the register looks at him as though he’s some strange creature and well... he isn’t exactly wrong.

The man manages to spout something about the pathway to success that sounds vaguely like a therapist’s spiel which is when Louis finds himself hastily exiting the shop.

Louis soon finds himself in park not far from the ballet school, walking aimlessly. He purposefully crunches some of the autumn leaves beneath his feet but it does little to help him feel better.

There’s something happening and it’s _right there_ just out of reach but Louis can’t figure it out. It’s tearing at him like a hungry animal and he feels unnaturally jittery.

He’s unsure how long he spends in the park but soon, the sky fades from blue to pink to purple to black and Louis is wandering the streets of London instead, hands in his pocket and his mind somewhere else. In that time, he figures out nothing but somehow, it becomes easier to breathe.

His mind feels a lot clearer and he doesn’t feel as on edge, even though it’s still lingering in the back of his mind, taunting him.

Before he returns to Walsh’s Ballet School, he stops by the flower shop once more and buys a bouquet of roses from the same man from before who refers to himself as DJ Khaled. The smell soothes Louis’ nerves, reminding of him of clear green eyes and a sweet dimpled smile.

Louis leaves them in front of Harry’s door, before returning to his own room and locking the door. He hasn’t since the first night Harry knocked on his door but right now, he knows he can’t have Harry wandering in.

Mostly because Louis is about to sit down and get to work.

After shutting the blinds and locking the windows, Louis takes out Liam’s laptop and starts. Within an hour, he’s surrounded by papers, sketches of red crescent moons and red glowing eyes, lists of adoption agencies, complete family trees, Russian ballet schools and a profile on every student attending Walsh’s.

Liam is speaking quietly in his ear, adding bits and pieces from his own research while Louis combs through, trying to find what the missing pieces of the puzzle are.

He’s skimming through an article on a small cult in Russia when there’s a quiet thud against one of his windows.

Louis’ head snaps up and he’s on his feet in seconds. He pulls the blinds up and then freezes because the stranger in black is staring back at him, steadily, red eyes bright.

He nearly trips over his papers in shock, gripping tightly to the window sill before he loses his balance. It’s a brisk November night and when the stranger breathes out, it fogs up the window.

Before Louis can react, the stranger writes something in the condensation and then jumps off the window ledge.

Louis immediately unlocks the window and pushes it up, leaning out to see where the stranger went but he’s gone, nowhere in sight. Louis swears under his breath before twisting his neck to read the message.

It’s in a language that Louis recognizes—Russian. The words are unfamiliar though, and Louis has to inhale deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose before he pulls his phone out of his pocket and takes a picture.

He sends it to Liam without an explanation, instead saying: _Translate from Russian please !!_

Liam sends a reply a moment later; two words that make Louis’ hair stand on end.

_I KNOW._

✿ ✿ ✿

Harry slides into the seat opposite him during breakfast the next morning. He has one of the roses from last night tucked behind his ear, his camera hanging around his neck and he’s staring at Louis with raised eyebrows. “Hi,” Harry says and his voice raises near the end, phrasing it as more of a question.

Louis swallows the spoonful of oatmeal in his mouth before nodding at Harry. “Hey.”

There’s an unaddressed tension in the air and Louis knows he isn’t going to be the first one to say something about it. Not when red eyes are haunting him and his heart is beating irregularly in his chest.

“Where did you go yesterday?” Harry asks, tilting his head curiously and almost hesitantly.

Louis aches to reassure him but doesn’t know how to. He settles for lying. “My sister was in the city.”

“Oh,” Harry says, blinking once before his eyebrows knit together in confusion. “You didn’t mention she was coming.”

With a quiet inhale, Louis shrugs and eats another spoonful of oatmeal. “Didn’t know about it until yesterday. She rung me up, said we should grab lunch. I didn’t get back until late last night.”

There’s still a little furrow between Harry’s eyebrows but he nods nonetheless. “Did you have a nice time?”

“Yeah,” Louis lies, smiling tightly. “I missed her. She’s all grown up now.”

Harry licks his lips once and smiles back slowly, if a little unsure. “I’d love to meet her someday. Maybe she could come to the big performance next month?”

Louis freezes, his spoon halfway to his mouth and meets Harry’s eyes. For a short, static second he swears he sees red but then there’s lily pad green eyes watching him hopefully and he has to shake himself out of it.

“Uh,” Louis clears his throat, shaking his head slightly. “Yeah, maybe. I’ll talk to my mum about it.” _No, he won’t. He would never in a million years invite his family to watch him lie and deceive and live a life he’s never told them about_. He doesn’t say any of that.

“Woo,” Harry says quietly, brightly and his smile is steady again, sweet and dimpled. “It would be nice to have someone’s mum cheer us on.”

Louis feels sick at those words. Harry doesn’t even have a mother to cheer him on and Louis is sitting here and lying to his face about inviting his own mother. Unable to stomach the rest of his food, Louis pushes his tray away lightly.

Before he can change the subject himself, Harry does, fingers brushing through his curls. “Thank you for the roses, Louis,” he murmurs, cheeks flushed.

“You’re welcome,” Louis manages through how choked his throat feels. He wills himself to get it together, knowing he can’t be this irresponsible and distracted. This is his _job_ and it’s not an option to fail. He needs to act his part better. “I’m glad you liked them.”

Harry bites his lip and grins shyly, ducking his head before reaching in his lap and pulling out another stemless rose. He reaches forward, towards Louis.

Louis lets Harry tuck it behind his own ear, watching silently as Harry leans back in his seat and flushes even darker. His chagrin isn’t enough for him to stop from taking a picture of Louis though, although he does it with lowered eyes.

“Thank you, love,” Louis whispers finally, knuckles brushing against Harry’s arm. It’s not Harry’s fault that Louis is in this mess. It’s his own and Harry is the one good thing to come out of it. He needs to remember that.

✿ ✿ ✿

Knowing that he has to do _something_ to alleviate the panic that’s simmering in his chest, Louis finally dials Liam’s number and presses call.

It takes a moment for Liam to pick up but when he does, he answers with a cheerful, “Hey Lou. Everything okay?”

For the first time in a long time, Louis answers completely honestly. “No.”

“What?” Liam replies and he’s already taken on his worried-mum tone. Louis would smile fondly if he weren’t so anxious, fingers twisting together in his lap. “What’s wrong?”

Louis clenches his jaw and takes a deep breath before rushing out, “There’s something I haven’t told you about.”

There’s an almost alarming silence on the other end of the line before Liam quietly asks, “What is it? Are you okay?”

“There’s—there’s this man. He’s been following me,” Louis biting the inside of his mouth harshly and wills himself to continue. “Since before I took the job here.”

“ _What_?” Liam shouts, aghast on the other end. “What do you mean? Someone’s been following you? Jesus Christ, Louis, are you hurt? Why’s someone following you?”

“I don’t know,” Louis replies and he can taste blood. “They broke into our flat once and then I crashed through the window with them in the flat below. They also attacked me when I was buying supplies for the mission and they sought me out and threatened me. Well… maybe not threatened, but they told me to be more careful in French. They stole my bloody shoes, actually. And then I thought they were gone but then last week I saw them outside my window and they wrote a message in Russian.”

“The one you had me translate,” Liam realizes and Louis can practically hear the gears turning his head. “ _I KNOW_. What does that mean Louis? What do they know?”

“I’ve no fucking clue,” Louis answers truthfully, frustration evident in his voice. “I don’t know if it means they know I’m a spy or if they know I’m undercover or—I just don’t fucking know.”

Louis can hear Liam hesitating on the other end and before he can tell Liam to spit out, his partner says, “Is it a personal enemy, do you think? Or one from this mission?”

It takes a minute for Louis to gather his wits enough to answer the question. He’d given it some thought already but it still takes time for him to formulate what he’s going to say. “One from the mission, I think, yeah. They wear red contacts. Red seems like a key color in this particular mission and I’ve never seen them before we accepted this job.”

“Fuck,” Liam says and Louis laughs humorlessly but doesn’t comment further. Liam must realize he’s not going to say anything further and then quietly asks, “You’re okay though?”

“Physically, yeah,” Louis agrees, even though they both know that’s not the answer Liam was looking for. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me. Just… look around for me? See if you can dig anything up?”

“Yeah, Lou, of course,” Liam replies immediately and Louis lets out a sigh of relief. At least he’s not in this alone anymore.

“Thank you, Li,” he murmurs before hanging up.

✿ ✿ ✿

Louis is walking Harry to his room after one of the group lessons, trying to work up the courage to just ask Harry what he saw that day in the basement but he can’t bring himself to say the words.

It’s only after he realizes they passed Harry’s room and are walking to his own room that Louis forces the words past his lips. “Why do you spend some nights in the basement?”

Harry freezes completely and Louis matches the motion, faltering in step to stare at Harry. “What?” the younger man eventually asks and his face… it looks almost _empty_. Entirely too reminiscent of the first day of classes.

Louis swallows loudly and squares his shoulders, reminding himself to stay confident. “In the basement,” he repeats, raising an eyebrow. “I saw you and the others. Training,” he clarifies after a moment.

“Oh,” Harry says blankly and his eyes immediately drop to the floor, not meeting Louis’. “It’s just to strengthen our muscles.”

If Louis didn’t know already suspect that was a lie, the way Harry is refusing to even look at him and is playing with his bracelets would give it away. Instead of pointing that out, Louis gives him a look and queries, “How come you’ve never told me about it before?”

Harry doesn’t even dignify him with an answer this time, shrugging slightly before glancing at the wall. “Oh. I must’ve missed my room,” he says as an afterthought. It sounds bleak. “Sorry. You don’t have to walk me back; I’ll be fine on my own.”

Before Louis can say anything, Harry turns on his heel and starts walking in the other direction with long, quick strides that have him disappearing from Louis’ sight in a matter of seconds.

Louis stares after him in bemusement and there are a million questions in his head, louder than screaming voices.

There’s clearly something Harry isn’t telling him but what wouldn’t Harry want him to know? What reason would Harry have to lie?

A feeling of dread fills Louis as he walks back to his dorm and he doesn’t bother looking at any of his research; just climbs into bed and tries not to miss the warmth of Harry’s skin against his.

His mind keeps him up for most of the night, no matter how hard he tries to sleep.

The next morning, when he sits down for breakfast, Harry joins him with a dimpled smile and has seem to completely forgotten the night before.

Louis, however, hasn’t but he decides not to push, not when Harry seems completely content with acting normal. There’s a moment where Louis wonders if he’s fucking up by letting this opportunity slip by, by choosing Harry’s affection over the information he can give Louis.

Then he banishes that thought from his head immediately. He’s not going to make himself feel guilty for liking Harry. There are other means for him to figure out what exactly is happening in that basement.

And maybe Harry _was_ telling the truth—maybe it really is just to strengthen the dancers’ muscles. It makes sense if Louis thinks about it, even if Harry’s behavior doesn’t. All the dancers are exceptionally fit and he hasn’t seen any of them work out much, so it’s safe to assume they’re getting their exercise in somewhere else other than dancing.

Maybe Louis’ job has just made him cynical and paranoid and he should just take Harry’s word for it.

By the end of the breakfast, Louis decides not to hang up on the night before and takes Harry’s hand in his, squeezing gently.

Harry beams at him before squeezing back and continuing his story on how Niall fell over a shoe in effort to impress Barbara.

✿ ✿ ✿

Louis eventually realizes he was stupid to think Harry was hiding things from him because it seems he’s broken a dam and suddenly, every day he’s learning new things about Harry.

One day, he’s walking past the communal showers and decides to step into wash his hands when he hears Harry singing, loudly without a care in the world and he’s shocked to realize that Harry is _extraordinary_. He knew he could sing, having heard him before but it’s never been like this, so raw.

The song is an unfamiliar one but he can tell Harry is hitting the notes perfectly, in a deep, rocky voice that sends shivers down Louis’ spine.

Later, when he brings it up to Harry because this time he just can’t let it go, the younger man gets flustered but then quietly admits that sometimes he can almost remember his mother singing to him when he was younger.

He says that singing reminds him of her and makes him feel connected to her in some way. That itself is more than Louis has ever told Harry about his own parents and it’s extremely obvious that he’s the first person Harry has ever told this to.

Louis also finds out more about Harry’s life at the school, how he met Niall, how he climbed the ranks of ballet, how he would practice until his feet bled some days but then eventually learned to rein it in and accept that dancing didn’t need to be perfect.

It’s strange because Louis thinks that Harry’s dancing couldn’t be more perfect. It’s not Zayn’s type of immaculate but it’s perfect in it’s own way, flowing with an unrivaled passion and he hopes Harry knows that.

One night in particular though, Harry whispers in the darkness of Louis’ room that sometimes he wishes he didn’t dance. That he had a normal life, attended university for a photography major, lived in a shitty flat and had a job at some local bakery instead of the spectacle that is his current life.

Louis doesn’t say anything, just gently runs his fingers through Harry’s hair and presses a light kiss to Harry’s forehead.

What he should have done is tell Harry that he agrees and wishes he lived a normal life too. That some days he dreams of what would have happened if he hadn’t gotten involved with the wrong people and went onto become the drama teacher he’d already dreamed of being.

Maybe he’d have met Harry in a bakery and flirted with him over a scone and walked away with his number tucked in his back pocket. Maybe they’d go on a few dates and laugh into each other’s mouths without worries and lies.

Maybe Louis wouldn’t be scared to love Harry in that world.

This isn’t that world though.

✿ ✿ ✿

“Shouldn’t you be rehearsing?” Louis asks but he doesn’t stop carding his finger through Harry’s hair. His fingers meet tangles occasionally and he softly tugs his way through them.

After breakfast, Louis decided he was going to take a small break from the questions hounding him. Harry accompanied him up to his room and then laid down, half on Louis’ lap as he flipped through a short poetry book.

“Shouldn’t you be teaching?” Harry shoots back, grinning slightly as he turns to the next page.

“Nope,” Louis replies popping the ‘p’. His fingers meet another tangle and he tugs until his hand is free. Harry huffs a breath out against his thigh and Louis looks down, becoming suddenly aware of close Harry is to his crotch.

Harry doesn’t seem to notice though, eyes fluttering shut. He leans into Louis’ teach, exhaling softly and Louis blinks down at him, unsure how to process what he’s seeing.

“No one’s ever played with my hair before,” Harry mumbles after a moment and his voice sounds deeper than before. “I really like it.”

“Yeah?” Louis wonders, tugging at another strand. He doesn’t expect for Harry to whine quietly and that sound runs through him like a current, making his stomach flip pleasantly. There are more important things to address than the way it makes him feel though. “Babe?”

“Will… you do it again?” Harry whispers, sounding unsure. His eyes are still shut but his heartbeat is rabbiting where Louis is holding his wrist loosely with his other hand.

“Pull your hair?” Louis asks, fingers stilling where they’re still twined with Harry’s long curls.

Harry nods, biting his lip and Louis’ mouth dries.

He shouldn’t—they should talk about whatever this is first but Louis can’t help it when he sharply tugs on Harry’s hair.

In response, Harry exhales sharply and then whines, eyes flicking open. In seconds, he’s sitting up and then straddling Louis’ lap, and pressing their mouths together.

Louis takes it in stride, gripping Harry’s hips tightly and kissing back for all it’s worth but then Harry’s hands come down to grab his, guiding them towards his hair. Louis gets the message and tangles his fingers in Harry’s hair instead, tugging him closer, licking into his mouth.

Harry moans quietly and his cheeks are flushed bright pink, eyes glossy and bright.

Of the two of them, Louis is the first to pull away from their kiss. Instead, he brushes his lips against Harry’s cheekbones and then down to his jaw where he starts to bite down lightly.

Harry bares his neck, breathing heavily and Louis smiles against his jaw before moving down, sucking bruises into the column of Harry’s neck until he reaches his collarbones.

Before Louis can do much else, Harry leans back and takes his shirt off with one swift movement. When Louis meets his eyes this time, they’re wild with an intangible fire. “You too,” Harry insists and Louis has a hard time denying Harry things on a normal basis, much less when he’s staring at him like that.

Louis slips his own shirt over his head but he’s more careful than Harry, wary of the small pocket knife tucked in one of the sleeves. Harry doesn’t seem to notice though, which is what Louis counts on.

Their mouths meet again, hot and messy, tongue sliding against tongue and breath mingling.

When they pull apart to breathe, Louis instead starts to map the expanse of Harry’s chest, mouthing along his tattoos and twisting one of Harry’s nipples with his fingers.

Harry gasps, hips bucking up on their own accord and Louis simply smirks against the younger man’s skin. He rolls the bud between his fingers, pinching gently and he hears Harry’s breathing stutter. Encouraged by the noise, Louis does the same to the other nipple until they both harden underneath his touch.

Unable to help himself, Louis fits his mouth over one of Harry’s nipples, swirling his tongue while thumbing the other roughly, until Harry is mewling beneath him, an obvious dent in his trousers.

“Lou,” Harry gasps out, writhing slightly. “Fuck, your mouth.”

Louis pushes Harry onto the bed gently in reply, climbing over him and fitting himself between Harry’s legs. He presses a trail of kisses down Harry’s chest, stopping just above where there’s a mattering of hair disappearing into his trousers. He sucks a dark bruise beside Harry’s butterfly tattoo, still thumbing Harry’s nipples with his hands.

He stops only to slide his hands down the length of Harry’s body and then he presses his thumbs into the laurels on either side of Harry’s hips, hard enough to leave bruises and Harry squirms beneath him.

“Look at you, _God_ ,” Louis murmurs, eyes running appreciatively over Harry’s bare skin, now marked with an array of bruises. He looks like he belongs to Louis. “You look like you’re mine,” he breathes out as the thought enters his head.

“All yours,” Harry agrees breathily and Louis grins wolfishly.

Louis lets a finger slip beneath the waistband of Harry’s pants, running along the soft skin there and Harry jerks up in shock, a drawn out, “ _Lou_ ,” escaping his lips. Louis huffs a quiet laugh, tracing along Harry’s pelvic bone and running his tongue along the trail of hair alongside it.

Finally, deciding to take mercy on Harry who is incoherently mumbling a litany of curses, Louis crawls back up his body, legs on either side of Harry’s hips and bends down to meet Harry in an open-mouthed kiss. His hands slide into Harry’s loose curls again, tightening immediately and pulling sharply.

Harry is incredibly responsive, eyes glassy and hands finally coming up to wrap around Louis’ neck and pull him closer, kissing him deeper.

Beneath him, he can feel Harry’s hips swiveling slightly, trying to find friction and Louis pulls away from their kiss to smirk and happily grind his own hips down against Harry. “Feel good, baby? You’re making such pretty noises for me.”

Harry lets out a sharp gasp, arching off the bed and Louis amusedly continues to circle his hips, feeling Harry’s cock pressed against him, growing harder as the moments pass by. “Want you. Need—need you,” is all Harry is able to say, cheeks flushed.

“Whatever you want,” Louis agrees, running his tongue along the back of his teeth before smirking crookedly at Harry. “I wish you could see the way you look right now. I haven’t even touched your cock once and you look so good for me, so fucking good. I wonder what you’d look like after I fucked you,” he muses and Harry’s eyes darken incredibly. “Do you want that?”

Instead of answering, Harry begins to hesitantly thrust his hips up against Louis’ and they start to lazily rut, lips meeting again in a messy kiss, teeth clacking together.

“Gonna—gonna come,” Harry gasps into Louis’ mouth after a moment and Louis takes that as a challenge, rolling his hips against Harry’s purposefully.

In response, Harry’s hips snap forward and Louis starts to press kisses along the line of Harry’s jaw, trailing down his neck before biting down sharply on Harry’s collarbone while pulling on a strand of his hair.

Harry comes with a whimper, quivering beneath Louis and Louis follows him just moments after, dropping his head onto Harry’s shoulder.

They lie there for a moment and Louis lets out a breathless laugh. He doesn’t remember the last time he came in his pants, rutting with someone like a teenager but he’s _so_ easy for Harry that this is practically normal.

“You’re wonderful,” he mumbles against Harry’s skin and Harry giggles quietly in reply.

Louis looks up to see the younger man’s eyes closed and a glowing smile on his face. It’s enough to make Louis forget about all his worries.

✿ ✿ ✿

Louis and Harry master the art of kissing where no one can see after some time. They steal kisses from each other multiple times throughout the day, pushing each other into random corners. They save everything else for Louis’ room but kisses—kisses are allowed whenever.

It’s a fun game and Louis likes it because he wishes he could kiss Harry all the time.

He has a feeling Niall and Zayn know what’s going on and perhaps all the other dancers in his senior class do too because they all have knowing looks every time he and Harry interact or show up disheveled together. They don’t seem to mind though so Louis doesn’t pay it much attention.

Maybe he should’ve given it more thought, should’ve spent less time fooling around with Harry and more time noting the sharp glances his coworkers give him—Melissa, in particular watches him with a disapproving tilt to her mouth almost always.

It’s only after Harry disappears for a day, missing from both the group lesson and their private lesson that Louis reflects back on their recent actions. He wonders exactly how obvious they’ve been and whether he should’ve reined his feelings in public.

He’s tries occasionally not to be overly affectionate but he knows he fails, slipping in quiet _love_ s, and _darling_ s, and _sweetheart_ s, alongside gentle touches and soft eyes but he didn’t think to realize that he could get the two of them in trouble.

Harry shows up at his room that night, eyes blazing with anger and for a second, Louis is worried it’s directed at him, that he’s somehow fucked up terribly but then Harry’s eyes land on him and they warm for a second.

It’s enough for Louis to immediately pull Harry into the room, wrapping his arms around the younger man as he closes the door with his foot. “Y’alright, love?” he murmurs.

Harry is silent and after a moment, Louis pulls away and gives Harry a once-over, as though it might help him figure out what’s happening in Harry’s mind, what has him so worked up.

When Louis glances down, he sees that Harry’s hands are shaking and he’s nearly vibrating with anger. He opens his mouth to speak.

It turns out he doesn’t need to because Harry blurts out, “They don’t want me to see you anymore.”

Louis blinks at Harry in confusion. “Who?” he asks cautiously.

Harry grits his teeth and mutters, “The faculty,” as though it’s a dirty word. Not once in the time that Louis has been here has Harry ever spoken about Walsh’s with blatant disdain—there have been times where he’s seemed upset but it’s never been pure hatred the way it is now.

“Let’s sit down,” Louis says eventually, leading Harry to his bed and pushing the pillows out of the way so that Harry can sit down.

When Harry sits, the anger seems to slip out of his shoulders and he nearly falls forward but Louis catches him before he can, holding his waist gently, carefully. “Harry, darling, relax,” he tries to soothe, rubbing small circles into the sliver of skin between the waistband of Harry’s jeans and where his shirt has ridden up.

Harry sags against him, burying his face into Louis’ neck and Louis lets him, pressing a light kiss to the top of Harry’s head as he waits for him to speak.

“They told me I shouldn’t see you anymore,” Harry whispers, lips moving against Louis’ skin.

Louis’ hands still for a moment, taking in the information and Harry freezes underneath his touch but then Louis continues to brush his thumb lightly against Harry’s skin and the younger man relaxes again.

“Do you know why?” Louis wonders and his mind is racing with a million possibilities. _I KNOW_.

“They think you’re distracting me,” Harry says and his voice is simmering with anger. Louis briefly thinks about how ironic it is that both their superiors think the other is distracting. “I’ve given my whole life to this place and the one time I’m genuinely happy, they want to take it from me. They forbid me from seeing you outside of lessons. I _hate_ this place. I _hate_ them,” he grumbles.

Louis bites his tongue to keep from asking the wrong questions. Eventually, he quietly wonders, “Am I? Am I distracting you?”

Harry immediately pulls back to give him an incredulous look. “No,” he denies vehemently, shaking his head. “That’s not—never. You know that. I attend all of my lessons and I’m only a scene away from perfecting Sleeping Beauty. My focus is fine, you’re not a distraction, you never have been.”

It’s impossible to doubt the sincerity of Harry’s words when he’s speaking so earnestly, eyes burning into Louis’ with determination, willing him to understand.

Still, Louis licks his lips uncertainly. “Why would they want you to stay away from me then? Why would they forbid you from seeing me?” Louis pries, albeit gently.

“Because they’re fucking dickheads,” Harry mutters, bottom lip jutting out. “I’m not some type of robot—my life isn’t supposed to be waking up, eating, dancing and sleeping. That’s not a life. This, with you,” Harry pauses to intertwine their hands and hold them up for Louis to see, “this is what living is supposed to be. Everyday's an adventure with you. They can’t take that away from me.”

Louis swallows past the sudden lump in his throat, finding it difficult to form words. “Harry,” is all he manages to say, voice cracking from all the emotions swimming through his veins.

Harry presses a soft kiss against Louis’ knuckles. “This is ours,” he whispers. “I’m not going to let them take this from me. I don’t care what they say. I don’t care if it’s forbidden. I’m not going to give this up. If it’s us against the world, then so be it. We don't need an army. We could be enough.”

“God,” Louis murmurs, filled to the brim with affection. “You’re _so_ much,” he says helplessly and then pulls Harry in for a brief kiss, hoping Harry can understand the words threatening to spill from Louis’ lips.

“There’s no one I’d rather have at my side and I’m going to fight for this,” Harry promises when he pulls away, eyes blazing. “For us.”

“Are you sure?” Louis checks one last time, attempting to ignore the way his heart is rabbiting in his chest. “We can end this now if you want… if it’ll be easier for you. I don’t want to make anything harder for you. I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

Harry shakes his head, jaw set with determination. “No, I want this, Louis,” he says decidedly before he briefly pauses, looking hesitant for the first time since the conversation began and his next words send Louis’ world spinning. “This is the only real thing I’ve ever felt.”

“What do you mean?” Louis presses, barely registering the words leaving his mouth.

In response, Harry bites his lip and shrugs, fingers tightening their grip on Louis’. “I don’t know but… sometimes it feels like everything else is just a game, a pretense I put on but when I’m with you, it’s different. Sometimes, I think you’re the only thing I can believe in.”

Louis opens his mouth but nothing comes out and eventually, all he can do it pull Harry in for another soft kiss and then wrap his arms around the younger man.

Eventually, Harry falls asleep and Louis covers him in a blanket, brushing a stray curl out of his eyes. It’s only then that he whispers, “I wish I was real as you think I am.”

✿ ✿ ✿

Louis watches as Jeff and Glenne spin in circles around each other and then shifts his gaze to where Zayn is lifting Cara above his head, a look of concentration on his face. Louis only lets his sight flicker to Harry momentarily, to where he and Niall are rehearsing the _pas de quatre_ and then he can’t look away.

The lines of Harry’s body move with such precision yet fluidity, quick movements that flow easily and alongside Niall’s own sweeping gestures. They make a beautiful sight, two powerful dancers working their way around each other like a well-oiled machines.

At that thought, Louis grimaces and looks away. He recalls Harry’s words from a few nights ago, _I’m not a robot_.

With a sigh, Louis walks over to where Karen and Barbara are practicing some of their more difficult moves and corrects them on their form. They both smile pleasantly at him before moving to take his advice and it makes his stomach turn because he feels like even more of a fraud that he already is.

Every passing moment where he pretends he knows a thing about ballet or belongs in this school as a teacher is another moment of him living a lie.

Jesus Christ, Louis needs to get his shit _together_.

Their group lesson ends fifteen minutes later and the students start to disperse from the room and Louis watches them go mindlessly.

It’s only when Harry sidles up beside Louis that he remembers he has nothing else to do for the day. He glances over at Harry, who’s watching him with a patient smile and it’s such a vast different from the fiery look on his face from just a few nights ago. “Ready?” Harry asks, hip-checking Louis gently.

Louis shakes his head to clear his mind before smiling back at Harry. “Yeah, just give me a second to grab my phone.”

He’s unplugging his phone from his phone when he notices Adrian just outside the dance hall, watching Louis with a blank, impassive expression.

Louis’ gaze darts to Harry who’s humming and fixing his hair into a bun and he sees Adrian follow his line of vision. The next time Louis looks at Adrian, the man’s face has hardened significantly but he doesn’t say a word—simply walks away without a comment.

It makes Louis distinctly uncomfortable but he chooses not to remark on it, walking back towards Harry. It seems just in time too because suddenly Harry is falling over himself and Louis rushes forward to catch him before he can hit the ground.

Harry sways in his arms, blinking rapidly and Louis holds onto him even tighter, trying to ensure he doesn’t lose his balance and send them both toppling over.

“Hazza?” Louis murmurs, not even trying to hide the worried tone of his voice. “Are you okay?”

Harry responds by clutching Louis’ shoulders and trying to upright himself and failing to do so. Louis doesn’t dare let go of the younger man, steadying him with the practiced ease of someone who’s had to carry one too many limp bodies.

“’M so dizzy,” Harry mumbles, fisting Louis’ shirt, looking almost lucid.

Louis frowns and then slowly lowers the both of them so they’re sitting on the floor and Harry isn’t in danger of falling over. “Do you want me to call the medic?” he asks, reaching halfheartedly for his phone that fell in his attempt to catch Harry.

“No,” Harry replies, resting his head against Louis’ shoulders. “I’ll—I’ll be fine,” he assures weakly.

Louis doesn’t exactly believe him but he agrees nonetheless, hand dropping to his side. “Is there anything you want me to do, darling? Should I get a wet towel? Some paracetamol?”

Harry shakes his head slowly. “Jus’ you,” he mumbles, eyes fluttering shut and Louis sighs, reaching up to gently card his fingers through Harry’s hair.

After five minutes, the two of them make their way to the dining hall and Harry seems back to his usual self but they pass Adrian’s office and he can almost feel the man’s pointed gaze through the door.

That night Louis texts Liam to send any and all information he has on the man.

What he receives isn’t much but Louis decides it’ll have to do because if Liam can’t find anymore information, then it’s likely no one can.

As the days pass, Louis notices that Harry has these little fits more often and it becomes increasingly worrying. Harry assures Louis that it’s nothing but that does little to assuage Louis’ worries.

He finds himself calling hospitals all around the world for possible diagnoses and the response he gets back most often is _dementia_ alongside a head injury. It frustrates Louis to no end since it simply doesn’t make sense because as far as Louis knows, Harry hasn’t had a head injury in the near past.

The strangest part of it all is that he’s noticed is that Harry’s fits only occur after one of the head faculty members pass through and notice Harry spending time with Louis. That’s troubling for more than one reason.

There’s no way for Louis to tie them to Harry’s likeness to being woozy but he grits his teeth and keeps looking anyways. If anything, it just reminds Louis that there _is_ something happening in this school, something that just isn’t right and the reason he was sent here in the first place.

After a while, Louis decides to tell Liam about the situation with Harry and Liam seems equally as bemused, asking if Louis has called the best neurology centers in the world to which Louis snaps _of course_.

Then Louis tacks on the strangeness of the situation and Liam grows quiet on the other end. Louis can almost see his eyebrows furrowing together and his brain buzzing.

Finally, Liam tells him that he might have a lead and that he’ll look into it and Louis hangs up with a sense of relief flooding his brain.

He’s grateful for the resources that they have at hand being a Secret Service agent, even if Louis technically isn’t using them for the right reasons. He doubts his superiors will be upset so long as continues to do his actual job as well.

And he is. He has too much riding on the line to even attempt otherwise.

✿ ✿ ✿

They’re having a movie night—Louis arranged the entire thing after a full run-through of the ballet with his entire class. There were small mistakes that need to remedied but they finished the whole ballet—they did it and that’s what matters. Somehow, even without a real teacher, his class managed to accomplish the impossible.

Louis feels impossibly proud because in the past few months he’s become fond of each student in his class (some more clearly than others) and they _did_ it. They deserve a break now, a night off.

That’s why they all end up in the rec center, swaddled in blankets and sitting on a ridiculous amount of pillows. Louis sat himself down on the couch and refused to move his legs when Barbara flicked him. It’s only when Harry shows up that Louis moves to make space for Harry’s gangly limbs to fit in beside him.

Barbara rolls her eyes when she notices and he hears one of the bloke groan—probably Xander, that twat—and the rest of the students just snort in amusement. Louis wishes he could reduce their grade somehow but this is a ballet school, not a standardized institution and there’s no way for Louis to lower their class participation so he settles for sticking his tongue out at them and wrapping an arm around Harry’s shoulders.

Harry’s flushing slightly but he looks pleased, cuddling into Louis’ side without a regret and playing with his fingers where they rest on Harry’s shoulder.

Before the movie starts, Harry asks Niall to take a picture of him and Louis and Louis huffs a quiet laugh and indulges Harry, letting their picture be snapped. When Niall shows them the picture, Louis’ heart balloons in his chest at how ridiculously fond he looks. Harry just grins down at the photo and thanks Niall for taking it.

The movie that they’re watching is _Grease_ , also known as Louis’ favorite film and Louis makes sure to whisper as much to Harry just as the movie begins.

He doesn’t expect for Harry to watch with rapt attention, green eyes alight with interest.

After the movie finishes, everyone drags their respective pillows and blankets back to their rooms and Louis sits there with Harry alone for a moment, smiling fondly at the way Harry is still quizzically watching the credits roll by on the screen.

“Did you like it?” Louis asks, nudging Harry gently.

Harry turns to look at him and his lips pull up into a beautiful smile that makes Louis’ heart flutter in his chest. “I loved it. I haven’t seen a movie in years.”

Louis blinks at him, tilting his head. “Years?” he repeats in disbelief.

Harry nods in agreement, turning back to the screen. “I think the last one I watched was _Love Actually_. I don’t remember any others so I always say that’s my favorite.”

That sets alarms off in Louis’ head that he chooses to ignore, instead nodding and resting his chin on Harry’s shoulder. “That’s a good film. My sisters love it,” he informs, feeling a smile tug at his own lips as he remembers the years he spent huddling around the television with his sisters lying all around him.

Harry begins to hum _All You Need is Love_ under his breath and Louis grins at him, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek before sitting there in contentment.

Times like these, Louis wonders what it would be like away from all of this. If after all this, maybe Louis could ask for a temporary break from working for the MI6 and he and Harry could have a semi-normal relationship, having movie marathons and stupid dates.

The fact that Louis is thinking about their relationship post-mission should scare him for so many reasons but instead, in a strange way, Louis is almost proud of himself.

He’s never been exceptional at commitment—the only thing he’s been committed to these past few years is his job and he thinks that’s more than a little sad.

Louis loves his job, he does. It saved him from himself and provided him with a purpose, a meaning to life. But it’s a lonely job, filled with lies and deceit and it’s just not enough some days.

It’s been a long time since he’s loved anything other than the adrenaline in his veins and the accomplishment that fills him to the brim after finishing a mission but he thinks that perhaps he’s found something else to love.

That something being a man with luminous eyes, a sweet smile that dimples and a personality that shines through the darkness.

Louis presses his thumb into one of Harry’s dimples, coaxing a giggle out of the younger man and Louis thinks to himself, _yeah, you’re something I want to love_.

It doesn’t terrify him like it might’ve once upon a time.

✿ ✿ ✿

“Louis?” Harry calls and Louis glances up from his phone where he’d been reading a play-by-play of the Man U and Arsenal game.

Harry is pointedly not looking at him, focused on his stretches. Louis watches him silently for a moment, wondering if maybe he’d mistakenly heard Harry’s voice.

Before he can wonder if he’s suffering from hallucinations, Harry speaks up again. “Do you—do you think you’d still like me if I couldn’t dance?”

Louis gives him a curious look before nodding. “Of course. Your dancing doesn’t define you,” he reminds softly.

Harry frowns slightly at that but still doesn’t look up. “But what if it does?”

“It doesn’t,” Louis repeats, raising an eyebrow. He sets his phone down by the stereo and walks over to Harry, sitting beside him. He leaves a fair bit of distance between them, unsure if Harry wants someone in his space right now.

He seems to make the right decision if the brief grateful look Harry throws his way is any indication before he sets his attention on reaching his toes instead. “It’s all I’m good for, though,” Harry mutters after a beat.

Louis sucks his lower lip into his mouth, giving Harry a considering look. “That’s not true, love,” he murmurs, voice low but insistent, “you’re good at so many things. Just because you love to dance—that doesn’t mean you can’t excel at other things.”

Harry is quiet for a moment and then, so low that Louis barely catches it, he says, “What if I don’t love to dance?”

That makes Louis falter, eyes wide as he watches Harry. The younger man still isn’t looking at him, lifting one leg above his head carefully as he stretches.

“Harry,” Louis starts, trying to tread waters carefully, “why are you here if you don’t love dancing?”

Harry takes a deep breath before answering, lowering his leg. “I don’t know. This is… this is my home. This place has given me everything. Dancing is all I’ve grown up knowing.”

There’s sadness clawing its way up Louis’ throat, threatening to choke him. “Dancing isn’t everything, Harry. You know that.”

“I do,” Harry agrees, smiling ruefully at the ground. “But then I have to wonder if my love for dancing isn’t real, then what is? What have I accomplished?”

Louis reaches halfway for Harry but then drops his hand dejectedly, sensing that Harry doesn’t want to be touched, not right now. “You’re real, Harry. You’re a real person with perfectly valid feelings and you don’t have to love dancing if you don’t want to.”

Harry doesn’t say anything more, instead launching into his part of Sleeping Beauty and practicing the tiny little kinks they still have to work out. Louis watches him for a bit but then he stands up and walks back to the front of the dance hall.

Later, they leave their separate ways. Louis asked Harry earlier where he was going but Harry had clammed up in response so Louis had let it drop—if he had to guess, the basement is going to be full tonight.

Louis only realizes he left behind his earphones when he’s halfway to his room and he jogs back, entering the dark dance hall. He flicks on the switch and the room bursts into light.

He dashes inside to grab the earphones off the floor but then pauses when he sees something written in the condensation of the floor-length mirror that spans the wall of the dance hall.

 _Amarti è reale._ Louis isn’t that well versed in Italian but he can read the words in front of him. Loving you is real.

He pretends he doesn’t see it.

✿ ✿ ✿

Liam usually never calls Louis on the job. It’s always Louis who calls him—mostly because it’s common sense for the agent on the field to do the calling, as they would know when they’re safe to call and when would be inopportune.

That’s why when Louis sees Liam’s name flashing on his phone, his heart climbs into his throat and he rolls out of bed, carefully dislodging Harry without waking him. He takes a moment to admire the younger man in his sleep, eyelashes fanning over cheek and lips parted as quiet puffs escape them. He looks so peaceful, so young. He’s everything Louis wishes he could have.

He brushes a hand across Harry’s cheek lightly and Harry merely snuffles and rolls over, face buried in Louis’ pillow.

Louis forces him to look away then. He slides his thumb across the screen of his phone, answering the call and walking across the room to stand in the far corner, as far as he can physically be from Harry in the confinement of the room. He would’ve stepped into the hallway but there are cameras that monitor the area and Louis hasn’t gotten around to disabling them quite yet. So he stays in the room, mostly because he doesn’t want to draw unnecessary attention to himself.

“What?” Louis mumbles, pinching his bottom lip between his forefinger and thumb anxiously. He wonders if it’s about the red-eyed stranger or perhaps Harry’s condition.

The line is silent for a moment and Louis’ skin crawls. He moves before he registers what he’s doing, making his way to his bags where he takes out a gun. He disables the safety as he waits for Liam to say something but still, nothing comes.

Louis grinds his teeth but doesn’t utter a word as he retreats back to his corner, finger resting on the trigger of the gun.

Finally, “Are you alone?”

“No,” Louis replies immediately, eyes falling on Harry’s peaceful sleeping form. “There’s someone else in the room with me but they’re asleep.”

“Can you leave the room?”

Louis mulls it over for a second before mumbling, “I could scale the building from my window if it’s that important.”

Liam sighs on the other end. “No, don’t, it’s fine. We have a serious problem though.”

“I’m listening,” Louis replies, clicking the safety back on for the gun now that there’s no imminent danger.

“The Prime Minister’s office has been broken into,” Liam says and Louis blinks in bewilderment.

“The Prime Minister?” Louis repeats slowly, cautiously. Now he understands Liam’s original silence. They’ve been told since the beginning to refrain from discussing public figures through traceable phones. “What does that have to do with me?”

Liam chuckles on the other end but it’s not a pleasant sound. It’s far from his usual happy, deep rumble; rather bleak and rueful instead. “The intruders hacked into his computer. It took a few hours for the IT department to trace back the cyber footprint that their flash drive left but we just got the results back. Guess where it leads to?”

Louis heaves a deep sigh. “Walsh’s?”

“Yes,” Liam replies but there’s a reluctance there that leads Louis to believe that’s not all there is to the situation.

“What else?” he demands, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“There’s footage,” Liam says and then clarifies, “of the break-in.”

Louis’ eyebrows disappear behind his fringe as he takes that in. “What kind of idiot would be stupid enough to forget erasing the security tapes?” he asks.

“These ones, apparently,” Liam responds dryly but there’s a trace of disbelief in his voice as well. They both know that it’s rule number one in the criminal world not to leave behind evidence, much less video footage. “There’s something else though.”

“What?” Louis asks, eyes narrowing.

“They’re wearing red contacts,” Liam informs cautiously and Louis’ whole world stops for a second.

 _Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck_.

He snaps out of it quickly though, clenching his jaw. “I’ll get these arseholes. I promise, Li.” It’s more of a promise to himself than anything else.

Liam seems to know that if his put-upon sigh is any indication. “I just emailed you the file of the footage.”

“Alright,” Louis replies and then worries his bottom lip between his teeth, biting just a tad too harshly. “Is there something specific that I should be looking for or do I conduct business as usual?”

“Business as usual,” Liam answers and there’s the faint noise of clicking that means Liam is typing away as they speak, already looking for ways to help Louis. “I’ll text you if we find anything else.”

Louis hums in agreement and hangs up, lowering his phone from his ear. The familiar shape of his gun in his hand is calming him down more than he’d like to admit. He doesn’t know when a gun stopped being something terrifying and become something safe instead.

Despite this, Louis tucks the gun back into his bag and crawls into bed with Harry. The video can wait a few hours. When he wakes up, he’ll figure this out and he’ll do his job. A new sense of determination fills him to the brim.

For now though, he’s going to lie here beside Harry and try to get a few hours of rest in. Pressing a soft kiss to Harry’s temple, Louis waits for his mind to stop buzzing so he can fall back asleep and with the steady breathing of Harry beside him, he eventually is able to.

✿ ✿ ✿

Louis wakes up both slowly and abruptly. At first it’s hard for him to open his eyes, a languid feeling running through his veins before he registers the sharp heat in his stomach and the warm mouth around his cock.

He shifts his hips just slightly but it’s enough for the warmth of Harry’s mouth to disappear, replaced by a calloused hand. Before Louis can open his eyes, there are soft lips pressed against his neck. He bares his neck for Harry to do as he pleases and the younger man giggles against his skin, making Louis smile.

“Good morning,” Harry greets happily, his palm dragging over the head of Louis’ cock.

“Good, _ah_ , morning,” Louis mumbles hoarsely, eyes fluttering open to see Harry’s flushed cheeks and rosy lips.

Harry grins mischievously, pressing a chaste kiss to Louis’ lips before crawling back down his body and enveloping Louis’ cock in warm heat again.

Louis exhales sharply and one of his hands tangle in Harry’s hair, not pulling quite yet, not until Harry licks a stripe up the underside of Louis’ cock. Immediately, his fingers tighten in Harry’s loose curls, pulling just on the right side of rough and Harry only leans into the touch.

Unable to help himself, his free hand comes to rest on Harry’s bottom lip, tracing where his cock is stretching Harry’s lips and then running a thumb over where he can feel the outline of his cock pressing against Harry’s cheek.

Harry starts to bob his head up and down and Louis tightens his grip further on the younger man’s hair, urging him on and Harry happily slurps down Louis’ cock another inch.

The next time he pulls off, it’s to say, “Sorry if I’m not the best at this—it’s, um, it’s my first time.”

Louis’ eyes widen ridiculously at that and he lets out a strangled, “ _What_?” He’d forgotten exactly how inexperienced Harry was.

Harry smiles sheepishly, lips raw and his fingers are faintly tracing the veins of Louis’ cock, thumbing over the spit-slick head distractedly, making Louis shiver. “Am I doing okay?”

All Louis can do is splutter helplessly and then pull Harry up to meet him for a messy kiss. He can faintly taste himself and he can’t help the little groan that escapes from his mouth as he realizes he’s the first person Harry has ever tasted on his tongue.

“Jesus, you’re bloody perfect,” he mutters, reaching between them to wrap a hand around Harry’s own leaking cock. Harry lets out a sharp gasp, back arching and Louis works his hand faster.

“I—I want to finish,” Harry stutters after a moment, eyes glossy. “Want your cock in my mouth.”

Louis stares at him for a moment in wonder, hand stilling on Harry’s cock before he huffs a fond laugh even though it comes out more hysterical than anything else and nods. “Yeah, go ahead, love,” he mumbles and Harry kisses him again, although it’s more on the corner of his mouth than anything else before he’s ducking back down.

This time when Harry fits his lips over the head of Louis’ cock, Louis is all too aware of how this is the first time Harry has ever done this. At first he’s unsure whether he should be giving tips but he quickly realizes that Harry is a fast learner and doesn’t need any advice from Louis.

Louis briefly thinks Harry’s mouth was made specifically to commit sins but loses that thought when Harry flicks his tongue in a certain way that has Louis’ eyes rolling back in his head.

There are quiet noises filling the room and it takes a moment for Louis to realize it’s him, little breathy gasps and drawn moans. It feels like he’s relinquished all his control to Harry, leaving him with nothing but the heat coiling in his stomach.

It’s then that Harry decides to relax his throat and takes Louis’ entire length into his mouth and Louis stares down at him, unblinking, astonished.

He nearly loses his breath at the sight of Harry glancing up at him with red rimmed, watery eyes, lips stretched obscenely around Louis’ cock and cheeks flushed a dark shade of red.

Harry eventually pulls off to breathe but as soon as he catches his breath, he’s taking the head of Louis’ cock in his mouth again, flicking his tongue at the slit and Louis lets out a shuddery breath.

Louis throws his head back and then notices that Harry’s camera is lying on the bedside table and has an incredibly irresponsible thought that sends a bolt of lightning down his spine.

“Harry?” he asks breathily, already reaching for the camera.

The younger man glances up and the second he notices what Louis’ holding, his eyes darken impossibly. Still, Louis has to ask. “Can I take a picture of you?”

Instead of pulling away to answer, Harry merely runs his knuckles along Louis’ hipbones and his eyes flutter shut again.

Louis turns on the camera and loses his breath at what he sees on the screen, Harry’s lips stretched around his cock, eyelashes stark against his flushed cheeks and his hair in a wild halo, curling around his ears.

He snaps a photo. And then another one. And then another one.

Finally, Louis sets the camera down and he tightens his grip on Harry’s hair, tugging sharply as a warning. “Gonna come,” he mutters and he can barely hear himself over the blood rushing in his ears.

He expects Harry to pull off, doesn’t think he’s going to swallow his first time but Harry only glances up at him coquettishly through his eyelashes, as if daring him to go ahead.

Louis gasps, hips stuttering as he comes and Harry swallows it without blinking an eye, only watching Louis with a wild look in his eyes.

As soon as Harry’s finished swallowing, Louis pulls him up again, kissing him deeply and this time he can taste himself even more distinctly. He pulls away to admire just how raw and red Harry’s lips have become, darker than they’ve ever been.

“You’re so good for me,” he tells Harry sincerely, thumb brushing against Harry’s bottom lip.

Harry only stares back at him, glassy and unfocused but still ever present, a burning green.

Reaching down, Louis takes Harry’s cock in his hand and gets him off on two quick tugs. When Harry comes, it’s with a whimper that’s buried into Louis’ neck.

They lie there for a few moments, quiet aside from their own breathing. Louis traces patterns down Harry’s back and then realizes how messy the two of them have become, Harry’s come splattered across both their thighs.

Louis figures they’ll clean themselves later and continues to draw onto Harry’s skin. He knows at one point he writes out the letters _M I N E_ with his fingers but he doesn’t think Harry notices.

It’s probably better that way.

Later, once they’ve cleaned up and cuddled for the better half of an hour, Louis sends Harry to his lessons with promises of a dozen kisses the next time he sees him.

✿ ✿ ✿

Things go downhill rather fast.

One second Louis is watching the footage that Liam emailed him and the next his heart is crumbling in his chest and he’s locking his room and covering his windows and sealing his air duct shut. He turns off his phone and tries to reason with himself for why he shouldn’t go out and do something he’s probably going to regret.

The footage starts with two men in blank entering the office, walking almost airily. One of them settles into the chair of the Prime Minister’s desk and inserts the flash drive into the computer before typing away.

The other one though, is watching the door with an air of nonchalance. He looks completely nonplussed, if his body language is anything to go by. At one point, his eyes flicker over the security camera unseeingly and Louis catches a glimpse of almost familiar red eyes.

The footage continues that way for a few minutes, quiet murmurs between the two men that the cameras didn’t pick up on.

The other man is in the middle of pulling out the flash drive when the door to the office bursts open and six men armed guards enter the room.

As quick as the blink of an eye, the familiar red-eyed stranger launches into action, fists flying and legs kicking out, disarming most of the men before they fully grasp the situation. Louis is almost in awe at how quickly, how efficiently this man is taking control of the situation.

It’s only when the man twists away from one of the guards in a small leap that’s almost too familiar that Louis’ heart drops to his stomach. The leap _is_ familiar. It’s the _petite allegro_ that no one in his class can do in perfect form because they’re all too lithe and tall. The only person he’s seen that can do the form correctly is Harry and that was after hours of repeating the move.

Suddenly everything clicks into place. The next time the red eyes meet the camera, Louis swears he sees the green hiding just beneath.

His throat feels impossibly dry.

After locking himself away in his room successfully, Louis watches the footage one more time, just to make sure his eyes are deceiving him and the second time, it hurts even worse.

That’s Harry—Harry who flushes prettily and giggles delightedly and smiles sweetly and dances so perfectly that he puts everyone else to shame. It’s Harry who whispers quietly in the dark, unsure of himself and Harry who has tattoos because he feels caged and Harry who is extremely talented and wonderful and someone Louis is near definitely in love with.

Louis feels sick and his head is spinning. He sinks to the floor, arms wrapped around his knees as he tries to take in the situation.

 _I KNOW_ , Louis remembers. The stranger had written _I KNOW_.

What does Harry know? Does he know that Louis is essentially in love with him and that he was sent here undercover for the exact purpose of exposing Harry? Does he know that Louis fucked up his last mission because he cared too much and lost himself in it? Does he know that Louis fucked up and endangered this entire mission too without even realizing it? Does he know that Louis is floundering in panic and doesn’t know what to believe anymore?

God, Louis fucked up so badly.

It feels like hours pass or maybe it’s mere minutes before someone’s knocking on his door and Louis belatedly realizes it’s Harry, calling his name, his _fake_ name.

“Alex? Are you in there? I thought we could go for lunch,” Harry is saying happily and Louis has his hands over his ears, trying to block it out helplessly. “You owe me a dozen of something.”

 _Is this real_? he wonders to himself, forcing himself not to let the tears fall from his eyes. _Was any of it ever real_?

Harry had told him _this is the only real thing I’ve ever felt._ Louis has to muffle his hysterical laughter into his knee.

After a while, Harry stops knocking. Louis barely notices.

He knows he has to call Liam but he can’t do it, not when his world feels like it’s spinning wildly out of control and he can’t ground himself.

It wouldn’t be this bad if it didn’t all make sense—the reason why Harry is so closed off sometimes, why these dancers train in the basement, why they’re under such strict rules. Walsh’s has been raising an _army_ right underneath London’s nose. Right underneath Louis’ nose.

Louis has never felt so stupid and incompetent in his entire life and that’s saying something, considering he hit rock bottom after Bulgaria.

Finally, Louis scrambles towards his phone and turns it on, waiting for the screen to light up. It takes a moment too long and Louis’ nearly throws his phone at the wall instead. Anyone else might’ve had shaky hands but Louis—he’s been trained to have a steady hand in even the worst situations.

When his phone finally turns on, he scrolls right past Liam’s name and stops in front of a name he shouldn’t have even registered into the bloody phone, not when it could be hacked at any moment.

He calls the number and holds his phone against his ear, listening as it rings once, twice, thrice—and then a familiar voice is on the other end of the line.

“Hello?”

Instantly Louis’ nerves soothe and he takes a deep breath. “Hi mum,” he whispers.

“Louis, darling, is that you?” his mum asks on the other end and there’s the sound of shouting, laughter and general chaos. “Phoebe, give Daisy her shoes back,” he hears his mum scold, voice far away for a moment before she comes back. “Hold on boo, just give me a second to hand Ernie off to Dan.”

Louis’ heart aches with how much he misses his family and it’s a good ache, a nice distraction from the other reason his heart feels broken.

He waits until his mum returns a moment later, no background noise interrupting the call. “Boo, are you there?”

“Yeah,” Louis chokes out and he wonders if he sounds as terrible as he feels. “Missed you.”

“Missed you more, Lou,” his mum replies and Louis has to press the heel of his palm into his eyes before he starts crying. “Are you alright?”

Louis shakes his head before he remembers his mum can’t see him. “Not really,” he says, honest as can be. “I messed up, mum.”

He can almost hear his mum’s frown through the phone. “What’s wrong?”

“I fell in love,” Louis admits and the words sound foreign to his own ears. _He fell in love._ “And he’s not who I thought he was.”

“Oh, love,” his mum murmurs sadly and Louis laughs deliriously.

“It’s the first time too, did you know that, mum?” He doesn’t even know what he’s saying anymore. “I’ve never been in love before, not really, not before this… but this felt so _real_ until it suddenly wasn’t. And now I don’t know what to do.”

“I wish I could give you a hug, boo,” his mum says finally, sounding regretful and Louis realizes that’s his fault too—it’s his fault for walking out on her with a head filled with a misplaced sense of pride. He could be at home right now, hugging his mum, playing with his younger siblings and not here, with a broken heart. “But I can’t, so I’m going to give you some advice, okay? I want you to listen to me carefully.”

“Yeah,” Louis replies hoarsely.

“First, I want you to be absolutely sure that he’s not who you thought he was. If there’s even the slightest of doubt, I want you to figure it out. You’re a smart boy, I know you wouldn’t fall in love with someone else’s lies,” Louis bites his lip harshly to keep from interrupting. His mother doesn’t know anything about lies. “I know you know better. You’ve always been an excellent judge of character and if someone got lucky enough for you to fall in love with them, they probably deserve a second chance before you go running off.”

Louis is silent, doesn’t dare say a word.

His mum sighs on the other end but then continues, “I know how you are, darling. I know sometimes things get too much for you and you feel lost and your first instinct is to run but… don’t this time, alright? You deserve to love someone and be loved in return,” she pauses briefly, almost tentatively and Louis almost wishes she would stop talking because every word that comes out of her mouth shakes him to the core, “If you’re right though and he’s not what you thought… then do what you have to. If you’re looking for a place to run to, I promise we’ll be waiting for you with open arms.”

Louis lets out a choked laugh, shaking his head slightly. “I love you, mum,” he manages past the lump in his throat. “Thank you.”

“Always, Louis. You know that,” she chides lightly and then there’s a sound of a loud crash and his mum’s muffled shouting—he thinks he hears her yelling Phoebe and Daisy’s names and it lessens the weight on his shoulders. He’s ready for when she comes back with, “I’m so sorry boo, but I have to go. You—you can call anytime, yeah? I’m never too busy for you.”

“Thanks mum,” he mumbles. “I’ll let you go. Tell the girls and Ernie I love them.”

“Of course,” she agrees and then there’s another crash. “Love you, Lou.”

“Love you,” he echoes and the line cuts off.

Before he can contemplate his next course of action, his phone lights up with Liam’s name flashing across the screen. Louis halts for a moment but then answers the call after taking a deep breath.

“Yeah?” he asks.

“I figured it out,” Liam says and he sounds like he’s bursting with excitement. “Remember I told you I had a lead on Harry’s condition?”

“Liam—” Louis starts, frowning deeply but the younger man cuts him off.

“No, no, listen,” Liam insists and then continues before Louis can protest, “Have you heard of the Red Room?”

“Yeah,” Louis replies slowly, furrowing his eyebrows. “That’s the Russian espionage program, isn’t it? The one with the ballerinas—” He cuts off immediately, eyes wide. “You’re kidding me.”

During their training when they enter MI6, one of the first things they’re taught about is the history of espionage. Louis only briefly recalls the Red Room but now he’s scrambling through his memory, trying to gather every bit and piece of knowledge he has on it.

The original Red Room was a deep-cover agency run by sick bastards brainwashing young orphaned children into infiltrating countries and stealing their intel, all the while brainwashed into believing that they were being trained in ballet. It seems all too familiar to the current situation.

Liam is still speaking in his ear and Louis tunes back in to hear, “…and that Adrian Vlasov bloke? His name isn’t Adrian Vlasov. His real name is Mikhail Reznikov and his grandfather was the assistant scientist in the original Red Room.”

“Jesus Christ,” Louis mutters, sagging against the wall. “So these dancers—are they all brainwashed too? Or is it all real for them? Do they know that they’re assassins?” he asks, ignoring the way his heart is hammering in his chest and green eyes are lurking in the back of his mind.

“I haven’t figured that part out yet,” Liam admits but then rushes to say, “I think they’re brainwashed though. That’s why Harry has those headaches and feels faint. When he acts against their orders, his body doesn’t know what to do and puts him in a temporary dizzy spell.”

Louis’ heart lurches in his chest and he wills himself to remain calm, focusing on the mission foremost. This isn’t the time to get his hopes up about Harry. “I thought in the original Red Room they only _thought_ they were ballerinas?”

Liam hums in agreement. “Yeah, they did but I think it’d be harder to pull that off in modern London. They had to ensure their cover was thorough so the ballet part is authentic. When they’re training to become deep-cover agents, I’m assuming the brainwashing comes in—they most likely think they’re doing something else, unaware of what they’re actually doing. It must be difficult for them to separate what’s reality and what’s a figment of their own imagination or the mindwashing.”

_This is the only real thing I’ve ever felt._

“This is so fucked up,” he informs Liam before laughing bitterly. “Want to hear the best part?”

“What?” Liam asks cautiously.

“That video you sent me, of the red-eyed stranger?” He waits for Liam to make a noise of affirmation. “That’s Harry.”

Liam is silent for a second before he exhales loudly. “You’re sure?”

“I wish I wasn’t,” Louis admits uncharacteristically, an unpleasant heat curling at the bottom of his spine. “You think it’s mind control, though?”

“I do,” Liam agrees, voice soft in assurance. “The ballerinas were referred to as sleepers. A specific phrase or word would trigger them and it would be like flipping a switch. One minute they'd be ballerinas and the next they'd be deadly assassins.”

They’re both silent for a moment. Louis is still working on wrapping his mind around the situation, feeling a sense of whiplash. There are too many emotions swimming around inside of him and Louis is unsure what he feels right now, the sting of betrayal and heartbreak still fresh in his mind being overcome by a soothing sense of relief and hope accompanied by a tenfold of worry.

“Louis?” whispers Liam, breaking the silence with an air of hesitance. “You’re my best mate, you know that, right? I’m sorry I got us into this situation but I promise I’m going to help us out of it.”

An overwhelming rush of affection encompasses Louis then and he is _so_ fucking grateful for Liam. He wouldn’t be able to do any of this without him. “It’s not your fault,” he reminds, sniffing quietly. “Love you, Li.”

“Love you, Lou,” Liam replies without missing a beat. “We’ll figure this out together.”

“Together,” Louis repeats to himself.

“Together,” Liam confirms.

✿ ✿ ✿

It takes Louis a long time to recuperate enough to get off the floor and wipe his wet face on his sleeve. For once Louis is thankful for the skills drilled into from his own MI6 training, the way it lets him disconnect from his mind for a bit. It allows him to organize the mess he left in his haste of locking himself into his room. He stacks his papers neatly and packs his clothes in his bag again while taking care to account for all his weapons. It’s as he’s doing that he comes across a small envelope on his desk, hidden underneath his stapler.

He opens it and out falls a dozen developed photos.

Louis freezes, staring down at where his and Harry’s faces are smiling back at him. He slowly picks up the first photo—it’s one he doesn’t remember being taken, the two of them playing football. Louis is laughing in it, head thrown back and Harry is watching him with a pout on his face but even in the picture, Louis can see the way his eyes are shining brightly.

The second photo is of just Louis, smiling into the camera with a smirk and raised eyebrow. He remembers this one, Harry having begged him during breakfast, insisting Louis’ hair looked too good for him not capture it in on camera.

The rest of the photos follow that trend, pictures of either the two of them or only one of them—some that Louis took of Harry himself—and they look incredibly happy and… in _love_.

Louis doesn’t know what to do with the photos so he settles for turning them over and putting them back in the envelope but then freezes when he notices Harry’s handwriting on the back.

 _愛してるよ, ik hou van u,_ _मैं_ _तुमसे_ _प्यार_ _करता_ _हुँ_ _,_ _사랑해_ _, mä rakastan sua,_ _我愛_ _你_ _, ich liebe dich, jeg elsker deg, ti amo, Я тебя люблю, je t’aime, I love you._

For the first time in five years, Louis’ hands shake.

✿ ✿ ✿

“Alex?” comes a tentative voice a few hours later, once Louis has finally managed to get his thoughts together. The shades are no longer drawn, the air duct isn’t sealed and the door is unlocked.

Louis is sitting in his bed, reading a book on the history of Canada that he found tucked into his bag. He assumes it’s Liam’s but it’s mind-numbing and helps to keep Louis from climbing out his window and going to a shooting range to blow off steam.

He barely registers the voice until his door opens and light filters in for the first time in hours. Louis glances up to see Harry standing in the doorway, a hesitant look on his face. “Louis?” Harry calls quietly this time.

Louis takes off his fake prescription glasses and sets the book down, climbing off the bed. It almost feels like his body is moving without his permission as he walks up to Harry and wraps his arms around the younger man’s waist and hugs him tightly.

Harry stills beneath him but then his arms come up to wrap around Louis’ neck, holding him close. “Louis? Where were you all day?” the younger man wonders and Louis doesn’t answer for a moment, inhaling the scent of roses that accompanies Harry everywhere he goes.

“I found the photos,” is what Louis eventually says, faint even to his own ears.

“Oh,” Harry breathes and then he pulls away Louis to give him cursory look. “Are—are we okay?”

Louis reaches up and brushes his thumb along Harry’s cheekbone, a feather-light touch. “Did you mean it?” he chooses to ask instead as he meets Harry’s gaze.

“Yes,” Harry answers and he looks earnest, he does. Louis wants to believe him. He can’t though, not yet. He has to push for more. He has in-ear pieces that listen specifically for heartbeat, for if the pace quickens or not.

If Harry is lying, Louis will know.

“Why?” he presses and he wonders if Harry can see the challenge in his eyes, the sliver of doubt.

He must because he steps away from Louis, out of reach and licks his lips, eyes boring into his. “Because…” Harry tilts his head, looking thoughtful, “because you’re everything, Louis. You’re intelligent and clever and witty and supportive and sweet and you treat me like I’m anyone else, not some robotic dancing prodigy. You care about what I have to say, about how I feel and you make me laugh like no one else. When I’m with you, it’s like nothing else exists. Before you came here… everything was a routine, the same things over and over and I became used to it, accepted it as my life because what else could I do?” Harry shrugs and moves just a fraction closer, a hopeful tilt to his voice.

Louis can only stare at him, unblinking, listening carefully.

“Sometimes I feel like I don’t know who I am but you’ve helped me discover things about myself I didn’t even know. Every time I’m near you, my stomach is filled with butterflies and sometimes all I can do is think about your smile. It’s—I’ve never felt that way. Before you, I never thought hearts actually skipped beats and I didn’t know someone’s laugh could make my entire day better. I didn’t know what it was like to want to fight for something, to have someone who encourages you in whatever you choose to do. I know I’m just a sheltered, dancing orphan and I can’t offer you what a lot of other people can but I’m willing to try because…” Harry laughs self-deprecatingly, “You’re real and you’re here and I love you, Louis. I love you so much it terrifies me sometimes.”

Louis waits, still listening for the tell-tale quickening in pace of Harry’s heartbeat but it never comes. Not once throughout Harry’s entire speech.

“You mean it,” he realizes in shock, eyes widening.

Harry nods, confusion evident on his face as he furrows his eyebrows. “Of course, Louis. I wouldn’t lie to you about that.”

Now is when Louis should ask Harry about being a deadly sleeper, but instead, he crosses the distance between the two of them and pulls Harry in for a searing kiss.

The younger man starts in surprise but then he kisses back, hands running gently down the length of Louis’ back and then settling on his waist.

Louis doesn’t let himself think as he gently pushes Harry back towards his bed and crawls over him, pressing kisses along his jaw before finally kissing him again. He bites down gently on Harry’s bottom lip, hands sliding down to grip Harry’s hips and sink his fingers into the skin there.

Harry parts his lips and Louis’ tongue slips in, licking into his mouth. He tastes faintly of peppermint, undoubtedly from the gum he’s always chewing, and it’s Louis’ favorite taste. Harry’s arms come up to wrap around his neck, pulling him closer and Louis goes willingly, letting the younger man play with the hair at the base of his neck.

It’s Louis that pulls away again, trailing his mouth down Harry’s neck, leaving bruises that his tongue sweeps over to soothe. “Want everyone to know you’re mine,” he murmurs against Harry’s neck and Harry shivers beneath him. “Love marking you up.”

“Too many clothes,” Harry eventually rasps, tugging at Louis’ shirt. “Get ‘em off.”

Louis is quick to reach down and grab the hem of his shirt, slipping it over his head in one quick motion and tossing it without a care for where it lands.

Beneath him, Harry looks almost… in _awe_ and that’s enough for Louis to kiss him again, albeit once, softly. It’s a just a peck on the lips but Harry preens in reply, lips turning up into a sweet dimpled smile and Louis has to look away before he bursts into flames.

He leans down and starts to suck a dark bruise right above Harry’s pulse point, where he’s most sensitive and Harry whimpers quietly, head lolling back onto the bed and hips twisting off the bed hopelessly.

Louis nudged Harry’s legs, spreading them and making room for himself to slip into the space between them. He reaches for the hem of Harry’s shirt and tugs until Harry helps him slip it off, hands brushing against each other.

It’s stupid that their hands brushing together is what sends electricity running down his spine.

He slowly inches his way down Harry’s chest, pinching one of Harry’s nipples on the way, making the younger man groan quietly and sink further into the bed. He can’t help but suck a bruise right above Harry’s left laurel.

“Love your tattoos,” Louis mumbles, brushing his thumb along the _17BLACK_ below Harry’s collarbone. “Want to know what all of them mean. You’re so secretive about them.”

“I’ll trade all of my secrets for your kisses,” is Harry’s reply and Louis looks up at him sharply, wondering if he knows exactly what it is that he’s offering.

Harry is smiling down at him as though he has not a single care in the world and Louis decides that no, Harry probably doesn’t know after all.

Pushing that out of his mind, Louis sets on unbuttoning Harry’s jeans and pulling them down his legs. The younger man’s thighs are pale and unmarked and Louis decides to fix that immediately, holding Harry’s hips down as he bites marks into his thighs. He hasn’t shaved in a few days and he wonders if Harry can feel his scruff against his sensitive skin.

Harry is squirming beneath him which Louis takes as an affirmation. “You have lovely thighs,” he whispers into Harry’s skin. He doesn’t know why he keeps talking—he’s usually never like this during sex but right now, he can’t control his mouth. “Love them.”

 _Love, love, love_.

He slips his fingers underneath the waistband of Harry’s briefs and pulls them down slowly, letting Harry’s cock curve up against his stomach, precome smearing across his butterfly tattoo.

Louis licks his lips but makes no move to touch, instead continuing to mark Harry’s thighs, inching closer and closer to where Harry wants him but never quite there.

“Louis, please,” Harry finally begs, shifting impatiently, eyes wide and glossy as he stares at Louis between his legs.

“Please what?” Louis replies, pressing into one of the bruises he left on Harry’s thighs. “Do you want something?”

“Need you,” Harry mumbles as he bites his bottom lip and watches Louis hopefully.

“Need me to do what?” Louis retorts, enjoying teasing Harry more than he should be. His eyes glimmer with amusement as Harry keens, bucking his hips up and Louis titters in disapproval, pressing harder into the bruise. “Come on, love. Say it,” he murmurs.

“I—I don’t know,” Harry replies, shaking his head in a frenzy. “Anything. Everything.” He sounds completely wrecked and Louis hasn’t even _done_ anything to him yet.

“Love when you beg,” Louis can’t help but say and then he ducks forward, spreading Harry’s cheeks apart and licking a stripe over his hole, tongue flat. _Love_.

Harry gasps loudly, arching off the bed in surprise and Louis can’t help his wolfish grin as he leans back, placing Harry’s legs over his shoulders, admiring the way Harry’s hole is clenching before he resumes what he was doing, tongue darting out to make a mess. He can feel spit running down his tongue and he doesn’t care, focused entirely on making Harry feel good.

“Louis, I’ve never, never… _Lou_ ,” Harry is saying, thighs shaking slightly where they’re wrapped around Louis’ head.

Louis takes it all in stride, tongue flicking over Harry’s hole, alternating between broad stripes and kitten licks, letting Harry get used to the unfamiliar sensation.

Just as Harry starts to babble incoherently, Louis points his tongue and thrusts it inside of Harry. Almost immediately, Harry clamps his thighs around Louis in surprise, nearly choking him.

Louis barely reacts though, merely thrusting his tongue in and out with practiced ease, widening his jaw so it’s easier for him to lick deeper into Harry.

Harry is shaking now, practically sobbing and Louis can barely hear but he catches the way Harry is saying his name over and over. “ _Lou, Lou, Lou,”_ mixed in with, “ _Please, please, Louis, please._ ”

He doesn’t think Harry even knows what he’s begging for but he sounds so pretty that Louis doubles his efforts, licking into him roughly. He only eases back to suck one of his own fingers into his mouth, wetting it before gently pushing it into Harry’s spit-slick hole alongside his tongue.

“Louis, _fuck_ ,” Harry sobs hoarsely, voice cracking as he pushes back against Louis’ face. “’M not gonna last.”

Louis pulls away finally, wiping his mouth on the back of his free hand. “Go ahead,” he urges gently, finger still working inside of Harry. “Love your face when you come.” _Love_.

“Can you—” Harry cuts off, looking unsure as he wriggles back on Louis’ finger but Louis understands anyways. He wraps his other hand around Harry’s cock and strokes three times before Harry comes with a cry, sagging into the sheets.

Louis eases his finger out and crawls up Harry’s body, kissing his parted lips softly, running a hand through Harry’s curls. There are tear tracks on Harry’s cheeks and Louis gently wipes them away, pressing a kiss beneath both of Harry’s eyelids.

Harry’s eyes flutter open after a moment and he stares at Louis with wide, green eyes before he furrows his eyebrows. “You didn’t—did you get off? Your jeans are still on.”

Louis shrugs sheepishly, reaching a hand between them but Harry’s hand stops him, fingers wrapping around his wrist.

“Want you to fuck me, please,” Harry requests and Louis blinks down at him in shock. His in-ears are still in and Harry’s heartbeat is steady because he’s telling the truth and he _wants_ this. Wants Louis to fuck him. Wants Louis to be his first.

“You’re going to be death of me,” he informs weakly but nods, pressing another kiss to Harry’s jaw before crawling off the bed, making quick work of his jeans as he fumbles to grab lube and a condom out of his bag.

When he climbs back on the bed, Harry spreads his legs and Louis crawls forward. He looks at Harry again, checking his face for any hesitation but all he sees there is a gentle smile. When he catches Louis looking, Harry nods just barely before darting forward to kiss Louis’ cheek quickly.

Louis feels a laugh bubble up in his throat and it slips out without his control. Harry only smiles wider at that, beaming brightly.

After coating his fingers in lube, he slides two fingers into Harry at once, watching him for any discomfort. The younger man exhales sharply in surprise so Louis waits for a moment, not moving his fingers until Harry nods again. He slowly moves them in and out, gaining a steady pace and he stretches them inside of Harry, looking for something in particular.

He knows he’s found it when Harry keens loudly, arching off the bed and clenching the sheets in his hands. He takes a moment to admire Harry like this, a flush settled high in his cheeks, lips red and raw from kissing, hair messy and neck blossoming with bruises Louis gave him.

“Love the way you look right now,” Louis tells him as he slips in a third finger alongside the first two. _Love_. He twists and curves them carefully until he finds the same spot again, making Harry moan unabashedly, writhing beneath him as he tries to roll his hips down on Louis’ hand.

“I’m good, I’m good,” Harry pants, hands coming up to hold onto Louis’ shoulders. “You can— _please,_ Louis.”

Louis laughs again, nodding before he rips the condom packet open with his teeth, fingers too slippery to be of much use. He rolls the condom onto his cock and then slicks himself up with the lube.

He has to stop for a second and grip the base of his cock tightly to keep from coming but then Harry gets impatient, hooking his ankles behind Louis’ back and urging him on.

Louis shuffles forward, glancing down at Harry who looks completely wrecked, shuddering underneath Louis, lying spread out and open just for him. “Love how badly you want this,” he says, pressing a kiss against Harry’s collarbone. _Love_.

Before Harry can say anything, Louis presses forward and his cock nudges Harry’s entrance, effectively silencing anything the other man wanted to say. He considers teasing Harry but then decides against it because he doesn’t know how long he’s going to last if he does.

He thrusts forward, moving slowly and watching Harry’s reaction as he bottoms out. Harry’s mouth is open and his breathing is harsh, eyes glassy.

“Move,” Harry finally says, wriggling down against Louis and Louis is more than happy to oblige because _fuck_ , Harry is so tight even after Louis opened him up and he feels incredible around Louis.

Eventually Louis sets a quicker pace and Harry’s moaning incoherently again, a mix of Louis’ name and swear words that encourages Louis to go _deeper, harder, faster_.

Louis’ hands grip Harry’s hips, holding onto him so tightly he’s probably pressing bruises into the skin but he doesn’t think about it, focused on making Harry feel good and on not coming before Harry does.

“Love how tight you are,” slips from Louis’ lips as he rests his forehead against Harry’s and the younger man whimpers underneath him. _Love_.

He presses their lips together in a kiss and Harry eagerly kisses back but then groans into Louis’ mouth as Louis changes the angle, holding himself above Harry with one arm while steadily rolling his hips.

“ _Fuck_ , fuck, Louis, don’t stop, please,” Harry pleads, voice shaky. “Right there.”

Louis grits his teeth and snaps his hips forward while reaching between them to take Harry’s cock in his hand and strokes in time to his thrusts, flicking his wrist and leaving Harry a writhing mess underneath him.

“Come for me, love,” he murmurs and Harry shudders, rolling his own hips up and coming with a muffled shout pressed into Louis’ shoulder.

As Harry clenches around him, Louis feels his own orgasm wash over him. He manages a few more stuttered thrusts, riding out their orgasms before pulling out and throwing the condom into the bin beside his bed. He collapses on top of Harry, breathing heavily. “Y’alright?” he checks, lifting his head to gaze up at Harry.

Harry’s eyes are closed and his cheeks are still flushed but his lips pull up into a small smile at Louis’ words, nodding slightly. He looks like he’s about to drift off. “Always wonderful when I’m with you.”

Louis rolls Harry over, spooning him from behind and he sighs, although it comes out fonder than he intends. “Love when you say things like that,” he confesses. _Love_.

“I love you,” is Harry’s quiet, sleepy reply.

Louis doesn’t say anything for a while, not until Harry’s breathing evens out and he knows the man is asleep.

“I love you too, Harry.”

Everything else can wait until the morning, he decides, before falling asleep to the steady thud of Harry’s heart beneath his ear.

✿ ✿ ✿

Louis wakes up to a cold bed.

He sits upright immediately, eyes wide and alert as he surveys the room in confusion. Since the first time Harry crawled into bed with him, not once has he woken up alone. If Harry had to leave, he’d always wake Louis up first and murmur a goodbye or he’d take Louis with him downstairs to have breakfast. Never has he left without a single word.

Louis frowns at the empty room and he glances down at himself to find not a trace of the night before on his skin. For an alarming second, he’s scared he’s hallucinated everything but then he sees his clothes folded neatly on the dresser. Louis never folds his clothes.

As he’s taking everything in, he realizes that he’s still wearing the in-ears from the night before and gently takes out, wincing a little when there’s static feedback in his ear.

Sighing, Louis swings his legs over the side of the bed and grabs a pair of sweatpants to slip on. They hang low on his hips but he barely pays mind, instead finding a jumper to wear.

It’s December, he notes briefly, glancing out the window where there’s snow falling. It has been for a while but he hasn’t really noticed—never really does on missions. He tends to lose track of the days, the months. The blur together after some time.

Louis’ birthday is in less than two weeks which means that the final performance for all the dancers is just around the corner. That also means that the teacher Louis is substituting in for—Mr. James—will be back soon and that means he’ll be done with this part of the mission. He won’t be Alexander Sharpe anymore, not after December 21st.

On any other mission, Louis would look forward to finally being able to go topside again because he _hates_ going undercover, even if he is good at it. On this mission though, Louis is almost dreading it.

Louis pushes those thoughts from his mind though, focusing on the task at hand. Finding Harry.

Once he’s tamed his hair into something presentable, Louis heads for the dining hall. It’s lunch time and it’s his best bet for finding Harry—he’ll check the dance hall next, then the rec room and finally Harry’s own room. If he’s not in any of those, then Louis probably isn’t supposed to find him.

It turns out he doesn’t have to look far though because he finds Harry sitting at one of the dining tables by himself, twisting his fork in a heaping of noodles.

Without bothering to get a tray of his own, Louis slides into the seat across from Harry, offering the younger man a smile.

Harry only briefly glances up, eyebrows furrowed before he looks back down at his meal and doesn’t say a word, still twisting his fork.

Louis blinks at him, bemused. “Harry?” he asks slowly, licking his lips.

“Mr. Sharpe,” Harry greets, nodding without looking up. “Did you need something?”

“Well, I thought that—” Louis starts and then falters completely, lips twisting down. “Did you just call me Mr. Sharpe?” he asks incredulously.

“Yes? That’s your name, isn’t it?” Harry retorts, finally looking up and tilting his head to the side in confusion. Louis finally catches a glimpse of his eyes and they’re cold and lifeless. Louis nearly flinches in surprise.

“You haven’t called me that in months,” is what Louis finally replies, albeit weakly. He can still see the marks he left the night before on Harry’s neck and yet Harry is sitting in front of him, looking at him like they’re strangers.

Harry frowns at him. “I’m sorry Mr. Sharpe. That’s my mistake. I didn’t intend to be disrespectful. I hope you can forgive me.”

If Louis was incredulous before, he’s in straight-up shock now, balking at Harry. “Harry, what—”

“I’m sorry,” Harry cuts him off, getting up and picking up his tray in an abrupt movement. “I have to go. I promised Niall we could rehearse for the ballet together. I hope you have a nice day, Mr. Sharpe.”

Before Louis can say anything else, Harry leaves without a glance backwards.

Louis stares after him dubiously, wondering if he’s still dreaming and he has to pinch himself to confirm that he is in fact awake and this is somehow his reality.

It only gets stranger from that point on.

He has a private lesson with Zayn and then a group lesson with the whole class but when he arrives at his lesson with Zayn, the young man is nowhere to be seen. Louis sits there by himself for the whole duration of their lesson in case Zayn decides to show up but he doesn’t. If Louis wasn’t already on edge, he definitely is after that.

Five minutes before the group lesson starts, all the dancers shuffle in together.

Louis watches them with unveiled interest as they all sit down in sync and stare at him expectantly. It’s kind of frightening. He notes that Zayn is present now, hair messy and cheeks flushed from exertion. His gaze doesn’t linger on him for long though.

Almost immediately, his attention is drawn to Harry, who sits there just as silent as the others, that same empty look in his eyes from earlier.

Louis feels almost as if he’s caught in the middle of a blizzard and once, he sat in the middle of the woods in Kazakhstan during the winter and nearly lost a few fingers to frostbite.

“We’re going to run Act 3 again,” Louis tells them finally, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “If you have any questions, come to me and I’ll help you to the best of my abilities.”

Everyone nods and gets to their feet before moving into position. Louis lets the music play and then leans against the mirror to watch them launch into action.

Not once, in the three hours of the lesson, does Harry so much as _glance_ his way. When the lesson ends, Harry is the first to leave the room without a single word.

Everyone else in the room is looking at Louis in confusion, eyes darting between the door where Harry left and where Louis is staring after him desolately.

“What did you do?” Niall is the one to speak up, eyebrows raised significantly. “Surely you can’t have fucked up that badly from last night to now?”

Louis turns to gape at him and Niall shrugs. “We can all see the lovebites, Mr. Sharpe. We’re not _idiots_. So what’d you do?”

“I—nothing,” Louis defends himself, snapping his mouth shut. “Why do you assume I did something?”

Niall snorts, throwing his arm around Barbara’s shoulders. “Because you look like a kicked puppy, Mr. Sharpe.”

“He’s right, you do,” Barbara agrees before turning to give Niall a stern look and the blond man drops his arm almost immediately, flushing darkly.

“I didn’t do anything,” Louis mutters under his breath but they all seem to catch it because they don’t say anything else, just quietly leave the room. Niall even offers him a consoling pat on the shoulder.

Louis frowns at the empty room and wonders how even though yesterday he suffered a near mental breakdown, today is somehow worse.

When Louis finally gets to his room, he finds Harry’s camera sitting in front of his door and he can only stare at it, heartbeat thudding loudly in his ears.

He picks it up and goes inside his room, locking the door behind him. He hesitates slightly before turning it on and waiting for the gallery to load.

The latest picture that shows up is a picture of Louis sleeping and Harry placing a kiss to his cheek, eyes bright and warm and so full of love.

Louis swallows loudly and turns the camera off again before reaching for his phone.

It’s time he calls Liam.

✿ ✿ ✿

“His behavior definitely coincides with what I have here on the brainwashing the Red Room did,” Liam informs and there’s the sound of papers rustling in the background. “And it’s not irreversible before you fly off the handle,” he tacks on as an afterthought.

“How the bloody fuck do I reverse it then?” Louis asks, throwing an arm over his eyes in frustration.

“Well, that’s the difficult part,” Liam mutters, “it’s different for every person.”

Louis groans quietly and tries to refrain from breaking something. It would likely come back to bite him in the arse. “Care to explain?”

“There has to be a connection to the outside world—something that holds meaning to them, something strong enough to break through the haze. That’s why it’s different for every person, because obviously the same things aren’t important to everyone,” Liam reminds.

Louis frowns because—well, what could possibly be enough to break through Harry’s brainwashing? If he can look at Louis and not really _see_ him then what’s enough?

He hears Harry’s voice in the back of his mind, _we could be enough_ and he has to grit his teeth and focus on Liam’s voice instead.

“It’s especially difficult because well—the Red Room took young orphans for a reason. They don’t _have_ any connections to the outside world. All they’ve ever known is this hazy reality and so there’s nothing to get them out.”

“Sometimes I think it can’t get worse than it already is and every day, it somehow does,” Louis grumbles and he hears Liam start to speak up on the other end. He ignores it. “This is so fucked up. I want all of these people _dead_.”

“Then you have to focus on the mission at hand,” Liam finally snaps and Louis blinks in surprise. It’s been a while since Liam yelled at him. This is long overdue now that he thinks about it. “I know you love Harry—and don’t even _bother_ trying to deny it because we both know the truth and you know what, Lou? I’m happy for you, I really am but right now the only way to help him is to finish this mission so get it the fuck together. He shouldn’t be a distraction. He should be your motivation.”

“You’re the worst,” Louis mumbles petulantly with no heat behind it.

Liam sighs long-sufferingly. “And you’re an idiot in love. Now take a moment, get your shit together and let’s figure out a game plan, yeah?”

✿ ✿ ✿

So the game plan is to do nothing until something happens. It’s the stupidest game plan Louis has _ever_ had and he makes sure Liam knows as much before hanging up.

It doesn’t help that _nothing fucking happens_.

The days drag on and Louis barely sleeps, his insomnia worse than ever. He finds ways to occupy his time, of which includes throwing knives at a blown up picture of Mikhail’s face (he might’ve coerced Liam into mailing it to him) with a precision that’s entirely too accurate.

His existence feels miserable and he tries to hold it in the best he can but the worst moments are when he sees Harry.

Harry’s eyes slide past him listlessly, almost as if he’s not there. It’s worse than if Harry had been mad at him—anger is something Louis can handle but this cold, emptiness… Louis doesn’t know how to deal with it. It settles inside him, makes his shoulders feel heavy and haunts him when he lies painstakingly awake at night.

He tries once, to talk to Harry, to test Liam’s theory of how to break through the brainwashing. It’s the Friday before the final performance and during one of his final private lessons with Harry.

It’s as Harry is finishing up the third act of the ballet that Louis carefully walks over to him, feeling more than a little nervous and he fights to keep his voice calm and collected when he calls, “Harry?”

Harry doesn’t stop dancing, feet still sliding across the dance hall but he does make a noise of assent.

“Do you think I could talk to you about something?” Louis tries, biting his bottom lip as he takes a step closer to Harry.

The younger man falters then, arms over his head and a curious expression on his face. His eyes remain lifeless. “Did I mess up, Mr. Sharpe?”

“No,” Louis answers, a little regretful. If Harry had, maybe Louis would have an excuse to touch him again, to help him perfect his form. That isn’t the case here. “It’s about something else.”

“Oh, okay,” Harry nods, arms lowering to his sides. “What is it?”

Louis hesitates, tongue running along the back of his teeth before he forces himself to smile, even if small. “Do you remember the night when you asked me to help you with 'danse d'Aurore avec le fuseau'?”

Harry squints at him in confusion before laughing politely, “I’m not sure I do. Why? What about it?”

Louis just barely refrains from pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. Instead, he keeps the forced smile on his face. “You brought me down here and told me you were afraid to fall. Do you remember?”

He waits for an answer and he receives it because Harry’s expression changes to something more troubled and he narrows his eyes. “No? Am I supposed to? What happened that night?”

 _It’s now or never,_ Louis reminds himself.

“You asked if you could kiss me,” Louis whispers, watching Harry’s expression drop even further. “Do you remember that, Harry?”

Harry shakes his head and Louis would say he looks terrified if it wasn’t for the dead look in his eyes. “I don’t remember—I—I’m so sorry, Mr. Sharpe, I didn’t—oh my God, I’m so sorry. Am I in trouble? Are you going to pull me out of the ballet?”

Louis’ mouth dries and he shakes his head, feeling hysteria bubble up inside him. “No, I’m not,” he promises, “You’re not in trouble. I just—I wanted to talk to you about it.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry apologizes again, biting his bottom lip. “I—sometimes, I do things without really thinking about it and I can’t really control—” Louis stares at him wide-eyed because he swears he just saw a flicker of light in Harry’s eyes, a flicker of something _real_.

“Harry,” Louis breathes and Harry stops speaking entirely, meeting his eyes.

For a second, Louis thinks that maybe everything is going to be okay, maybe this is enough. That’s when someone else calls from across the room, voice sharp, “ _Harry_.”

Harry’s head snaps to the side where an assistant of Mikhail’s is standing, clipboard in hand, watching the two of them with a flat expression.

When he looks back at Louis again, there’s not even a hint of the warmth that might’ve been there a minute ago. “I’m sorry, Mr. Sharpe,” he says monotonously and then steps back and continues to dance.

Louis doesn’t even try to hold back the frown on his face and when he turns to glare at the assistant, they’re gone. He huffs under his breath and walks back to his original spot, shooting Liam a quick text of _The brainwash thing can be broken .. just need some time to figure out the best course of action ._

He receives a knife emoji and a thumbs up. Louis isn’t sure what to make of that so he sends back an upside down smiley face emoji and calls it a day.

The closer the final performance gets; the more antsy Louis becomes. He can feel that _something_ is going to happen on the final performance but he’s not sure what, not until he sees the guest attendance list.

 _Vladamir Putin, Benjamin Netanyahu, Park Geun-hye, Ali Khamenei, Salman bin Abdulaziz al Saud, Dilma Rousseff, Shinzo Abe, Francois Hollande, Narendra Modi, Angela Merkel, Xi Jinping_ …

Suddenly everything makes a lot more sense.

“Are they attending?” Louis hisses into the phone, hidden in a storage closet.

“Some of them are,” Liam confirms and his voice is tight, the way it gets when he’s on edge, “and our Prime Minister definitely is. Walsh’s Ballet School is the most prestigious ballet school of the United Kingdom. Turning down their offer to attend is almost an insult to the country.”

“Has anyone informed the Prime Minister that these are the same people that broke into his office?” Louis asks, even though he knows what Liam is going to say. He still has to ask.

“We can’t confirm it, so no. No one has informed him,” Liam answers, just as Louis expected.

Louis grits his teeth and tries not to break the broomstick he’s holding onto. “So all those world leaders are just going to be sitting in a room full of deadly sleepers and there’s nothing we can do about it,” he summarizes dryly.

“No, we can. You’ll be there and I’ll come and we’ll bring in reinforcements, alright?” Liam assures on the other end and Louis sighs and but hums in assent before abruptly hanging up when he hears footsteps outside the closet and the knob starts to turn.

He finds Zayn looking at him in confusion and he stares back without blinking.

“Mr. Sharpe…?” Zayn asks, eyes darting around as if looking for an answer as for why Louis might be in a storage closet.

“Zayn,” Louis greets easily, standing up straight and dusting himself off. “Nice to see you.”

“Why are you—?” Zayn trails off, gesturing towards the closet.

“Don’t worry about it,” Louis says as a dismissal and slips past the younger man, whistling faintly (it’s the tune he used hear Harry hum).

Before he can leave, Zayn calls, “Mr. Sharpe!” once more and Louis turns slowly, raising a singular eyebrow. Zayn looks hesitant for a second before he finally says, “Not everyone is your enemy,” and then nods stiffly before walking away.

Louis stares after him, bemused, and just adds it to the list of strange things happening.

As Louis’ stress levels start to rise, Liam’s do as well and that in turn causes Louis to become even more anxious and then the dancers all start to stress as well because their final performance is in _two_ days.

If Liam’s theory is right and they’re sleepers, they have even less of an idea of what’s about to happen than Louis does and they just think that they’re going to perform for some of the most important people in Britain as well around the world. Louis can see how that would be nerve-wracking.

Harry, in particular, seems very nervous and that only adds onto the stress Louis has weighing him down. It seems unlikely that he’s going to make it out of this whole ordeal without a stress-induced heart attack.

The day before the performance, Louis officially loses it and calls up the personal assistants of everyone attending the performance and warns them to bring extra security because there’s a rumor going around about how the MI6 is going to be attending and that never means anything good.

Almost immediately, five people call out of attending and he sees Melissa running around, screaming at underpaid, overworked assistants and Louis silently prays that Liam doesn’t kill him for adding more chaos to the mix.

That same day, he catches Harry watching him, lips pursed and eyes calculating but when he realizes he’s been caught, he looks away.

Louis had managed to push it out of his mind how long it’s been since Harry smiled at him—nine days, his brain reminds him unhelpfully—but now it’s right there, he remembers and it _hurts_.

For the sake of the mission, Louis takes a deep breath and pushes Harry to the back of his mind (or at least he tries to. He never succeeds).

He remains a calm front for the right of night, assuring Karen and Camila, his youngest dancers, that they’re fine and everything is fine and that the performance is going to go smoothly even if he doesn’t believe it himself.

When he climbs into bed that night, he doesn’t sleep. He stares at the ceiling of his room quietly until there’s a near-silent scuffle outside his window.

Louis is up and out of bed in seconds, gun in hand and a focused look in his eye as he rounds the window. Outside, he sees someone who shouldn’t be achingly familiar but is.

There are red eyes staring back at him and Louis could almost swear the man behind them looks terrified.

Louis slowly lowers the gun and then lifts the window but doesn’t move any closer. He can hear the man’s breathing now, hear the quiet hitches in his breath that make his heart ache terribly. He’s not wearing his usual mask, just a black hat that his hair is tucked into. It’s unmistakably Harry’s face.

“What do you know?” Louis finally asks, voice just above a whisper. “You wrote _I KNOW_ on my window. Why?”

The man shuts his eyes, shaking his head barely. “Tu es un espion.” It’s also unmistakably Harry’s voice.

“I am,” Louis agrees and his heart is lodging in his throat. “Are you the only person who knows?”

Harry hesitates for a second before nodding, lips twisted in a grimace. Oh, how Louis misses those lips.

“Are you going to tell anyone else?” Louis wonders and he can’t help but also wonder if _Harry_ knows he’s a spy or just this sleeper version of him, a shade of who he really is.

“Je ne sais pas,” Harry whispers and Louis sighs, unsure where this leaves them.

Finally, he asks the question that he’s been thinking about since seeing those red eyes. “Why are you here?”

“Pour te donner tes souliers,” Harry says and this time there’s almost a sliver of a smile on his face as he hangs onto the ledge with one hand and pulls out Louis’ Vans—the ones that were stolen—from behind his back. He sets them on the window sill and then jumps.

Louis immediately lunges forward, checking to see whether Harry is okay but once again, the man is gone and all that’s left in his wake are the shoes that Louis thought he would never see again.

“Merci,” Louis whispers even though Harry is long gone and something settles in his heart, a hope he’d almost lost.

✿ ✿ ✿

“You clean up nice,” Barbara notes, eyeing Louis’ suit.

Louis laughs pleasantly, even though it sounds hollow to his own ears. “Why thank you Babs. You look gorgeous as well.”

Barbara smiles at him and turns away, discussing something quietly with Cara.

This morning, all of them piled into a large coach bus and headed to the Apollo Theatre, where the performance will be held. They’re currently running one full rehearsal before the final show at six in the evening.

Louis is watching from the sidelines and he’s in awe of what these dancers have accomplished in a few short months. It’s crazy to think that he played a part in it (as small of a part that may be). He’s proud of these people, even if they’re most likely going to become psychotic in less than two hours and attempt to assassinate everyone in the room.

On his person, Louis has over half a dozen weapons. He has three guns, one hidden in the inside of his suit jacket, another tucked in the waistband of his tailored pants and the last one strapped to his ankle. He has several knives, hidden in his sleeves and pockets and he’s wearing the bracelet Lottie gave him, with the makeshift vial of poison.

Making sure no one is looking at him, Louis discreetly checks his phone to see if Liam has any updates. There’s none since the last time he checked, which admittedly was only five minutes ago but Louis has seen how much can go wrong within five minutes.

Harry is on stage currently, twirling around Niall who follows in step, careful and measuring. Louis watches him silently, unable to tear his eyes away until his phone vibrates and he has to glance down.

_abt 35 ppl coming in as back up.. had them dress up for the occasion and added them into the database for the guest list as swedish business ppl. also u wouldn’t happen to kno why the leaders of china, germany and finland just called the mi6 wondering wtf is up at the apollo theatre would u ?_

Louis texts back the upside down smiley face emoji. It’s become a quick favorite of his.

After the rehearsal is finished, all the dancers make their way backstage, chattering lightly but Louis can feel the nervousness palpably in the air.

He squares his shoulders, takes a deep breath and plays his role as Alexander Sharpe one last time.

Louis makes his way through the dancers, assuring them one by one and wishing them good luck. He reminds them that this is what they’ve been preparing for since September and that they’re completely ready for it.

His words seem to have a positive effect on them as they seem to calm down, nodding along to his words and then some of them even hug him tightly, thanking him for his time as their teacher. It makes him oddly emotional.

By the time he reaches Harry, the young man is expecting him. This isn’t sleeper Harry and this isn’t his Harry either. This is cold, distant ballet dancer Harry.

“Hey,” Louis greets, nodding at Harry. “You ready?”

“A little nervous,” Harry admits, glancing at the stage from behind the curtain. The seats are slowly filling up and Louis sees a few familiar faces, Secret Service agents he’s worked with before and politicians alike. “Any tips?”

“You don’t need them,” Louis assures him, smiling faintly. “I’ve never seen someone dance as beautifully as you do.” The words slip off his tongue with ease, verbatim what he said during one of their first conversations.

“You’re too kind, Mr. Sharpe,” Harry replies, his lips twisting up into what could be a smile. It’s not the sweet smile that Louis misses. “Beautiful dancing doesn’t make me any less prone to messing up.”

Louis tilts his head in consideration. “I suppose,” he agrees slowly. “But I believe in you and so does everyone else. You know this ballet like the back of your hand.”

Harry hums and raises his hand to stare at it, eyes raking over it as if committing it to memory. “I guess,” he agrees before meeting Louis’ gaze. “I’m still scared though.”

Even though Louis _knows_ this isn’t Harry, he can’t resist the urge to take Harry’s hand in his and squeeze reassuringly. Harry looks shocked at the motion but doesn’t take his hand away.

“Harry, I promise you’re completely ready for this. You’re going to blow everyone away,” he insists gently, thumb grazing Harry’s knuckles. “You’re the star of this show and I know you can do this.”

Harry is still looking at him and for a second, his eyes soften. Louis sees it and he treasures it, holds it to his chest and vows to never let it go. “Thank you,” Harry murmurs.

“You’re welcome,” Louis replies and then in a daring motion, he lifts Harry’s hand to his mouth and presses a soft kiss there. “Good luck, Sleeping Beauty.” The words _I love you_ hang in the air but he thinks Harry might hear them anyways.

He doesn’t stick around to watch the softness in Harry’s eyes disappear, instead quickly makes his way to the opposite end of the stage so he can check his phone once more.

A single text from Liam: _everyone’s in place. good luck tommo. i’ve got ur back xx_

Louis smiles at the text and hopes for the best.

✿ ✿ ✿

The show starts off beautifully.

Louis Walsh himself introduces the play, followed by Louis walking out as Alexander Sharpe to introduce each individual dancer and allow them to twirl onto the stage.

As the first act begins, Louis disappears into the sidelines, eyes flashing across the theatre for a sign that even the slightest thing is out of order.

Harry dances gracefully, with a burning passion that none of the other dancers could even think to rival and they don’t try. Instead, they work seamlessly as a unit, complimenting each other rather than clashing. Louis’ heart sings with pride but his brain refuses to get distracted, eyes sharp and aware.

The audience looks enthralled but Louis can see the extra security that everyone has brought with them, a precaution after Louis’ anonymous message about MI6. He can see Liam sitting on the far left corner and for a brief second, he imagines his mum there as well with all of his siblings, watching the man Louis is in love with dance his heart out.

He pushes that thought away as quickly as it comes, directing his gaze towards the back of the auditorium. He squints slightly when he notices that the doors are being shut and he shoots a quick text to Liam, fingers flying across the screen. He realizes rather quickly that Liam set up a forward chain to all of the agents present.

In response to his text, a few of the agents in the back stand up and excuse themselves, heading for the doors before all can be closed. They disappear for the time being but Louis doesn’t worry too much, knowing they can handle themselves.

It’s all going swimmingly aside from that until Mikhail Reznikov sets foot on the stage during the very short intermission. Louis immediately tenses, but doesn’t move, watching Mikhail for even one single misstep.

“Hello, hello!” Mikhail greets and even the hint of his Russian accent is gone, replaced with a chipper British one instead. “I’m Adrian Vlasov and I’m one of the head instructors at Walsh’s Ballet School. Our dancers have worked incredibly hard to put on this ballet for you and I’d like to bring them back on stage momentarily to hear what I have to say.”

Louis sets his jaw and texts Liam again, letting him know that this is _not_ something that was planned. He sees all of the agents become alert, paying specific attention to what Mikhail is saying.

“Cara, Xander, Glenne, Jeff, Barbara, Karen, Zayn, Niall, Camila and of course, Harry,” Mikhail says, much to the applause of those in the audience.

All ten of them walk on stage, smiling as they line up behind him. Louis can only watch in despair, biting his tongue to keep from shouting something nonsensical.

“They’re not the only ones involved in the ballet, but they are the ones who have worked the hardest and I think it’s time they’re recognized for their efforts.” Mikhail has an almost sinister smile on his lips and the red crescent on his wrist seems to glow under the stage lights. “They’re our mighty lions.”

It’s like flipping a switch, Louis notes, watching as the dancers drop their smiles and then jump off the stage with an emotionless expression on their faces.

Louis moves without thinking, ignoring the screams that fill the air. He has his gun ready and loaded in less than five seconds.

The dancer closest to him is Karen and she has her hands around the throat of a Parliament member. He shoots her in the leg and then tackles her to the ground. “Run,” he shouts at those standing around, observing the spectacle and it’s enough time for Karen to land a punch to his jaw.

Louis grunts but doesn’t let up, keeping her pinned beneath him before using his gun to knock her over the head. He doesn’t have any time to take pride in it because he notices the other dancers, the ones in the intermediate and beginner classes trailing out from backstage with that same empty look in their eyes.

Jesus, _fuck_.

“We need more back up! We need more back up!” Louis shouts although he’s not sure who he’s yelling at. He keeps his grip on Karen as he pulls his phone out of his pocket and texts Liam and then sends a similar text to the MI6 line they have specifically for emergencies.

_The children are sleepers too !! Need back up, bring cuffs, don’t hurt the children unless necessary !_

Someone aims a well-placed kick at his sternum and Louis immediately swivels around, gun cocked, only to see Lux standing in front of him.

Louis grits his teeth, unsure what to do before he remembers the tie around his neck. He rips it off immediately and ties Lux’s hands together before she can do much harm and then rips the part of his sleeve to tie her feet together as well. She struggles against him, trying fruitlessly to hit him again but he doesn’t let her, fingers tight around her wrists.

After he manages to detain her, he swings Karen’s limp body over his shoulder and sets both of them on the stage while narrowly avoiding Xander throwing a punch. Thankfully, another one of the agents gets to him before he can and Louis nods gratefully.

Louis glances around the room quickly, looking for where his help is needed and then sees Niall pinning down the Prime Minister. He quickly crosses the space between them and throws his body with full force against Niall’s.

They both go tumbling and Louis’ fist flies out to punch Niall whose head cracks against the ground. Louis doesn’t wince at the sound like he once might’ve, instead swinging his fist at Niall again.

Then, just briefly, he recalls what Liam said about breaking the effect of the brainwashing and then hesitantly, while pinning Niall down, Louis rapidly speaks, “Niall? Remember that time you told me about how your dad used to take you to football games, even though you were too young to understand what was going on? How he bought you soda and pretzels and he’d clap you on the back each time Derby made a goal?”

At first, Niall struggles against his grip but as Louis speaks, Niall slowly becomes lax and his eyes are hazy for a second before they become alarmingly clear.

“Mr. Sharpe?” Niall ask in confusion, squinting. “What’s happening?”

“Holy fuck, it worked,” Louis says mostly to himself before laughing incredulously. “Call me Louis, alright?”

“What?” Niall is staring at him like he’s crazy but then he sees the exact moment Niall takes note of their surroundings because his eyes widen in shock and his mouth drops open. “ _What_?”

Louis loosens his grip and then gets off of Niall, getting to his feet. He’s about to help Niall off the ground when he sees someone in his peripheral vision and he pulls his gun out from his waistband immediately, shooting Barbara in the shoulder.

Behind him, Niall shouts and Louis glances back to offer him a comforting smile before kicking Barbara in the stomach, hard enough to knock her down. “You know Barbara well, right?” he asks, dragging Niall by his collar over to the seething girl, who’s struggling to get back up. “Talk to her about things that matter most to her outside of dancing and she’ll come to her senses sooner or later. I hope.”

He gestures for one his fellow agents to come over and then he quickly summarizes the situation to her before leaving her with Niall and Barbara.

Louis has always been better at listening rather than watching which is why he hears someone creeping up before he sees them and he turns, knife in his palm before he registers that it’s Zayn and he’s holding his hands above his head in the universal sign of surrender.

“Not everyone is your enemy,” Zayn shouts to be heard over the noise and it sounds familiar. Louis recalls that it’s what Zayn said to him after finding him in the storage closet and then Louis looks at him, really _looks_ at him and notices how clear Zayn’s brown eyes are.

“What the fuck?” Louis yells back, gesturing to Zayn with one hand and then turning to stab the person behind him—Jeff—and he gets kneed in the stomach.

Louis doesn’t let up, setting his jaw and punching Jeff in the chest. The two of them hit the ground with a painful thud and roll around, kicks and punches flying between them. Louis doesn’t know anything about Jeff, doesn’t know how to break him out of his sleeper mode so he settles for elbowing Jeff roughly between the eyebrows.

He watches as Jeff’s eyes roll back in his head and he slumps beneath Louis in pain.

Louis breathes out a sigh of relief and rolls off Jeff to see Zayn restraining one of the younger sleepers, holding her back and whispering quietly in her ear until she relaxes under his touch and blinks her eyes open in confusion, sharp and accessing. Zayn points the girl in the direction of the stage where Louis can see a lot of the sleepers unconscious and being treated by medics.

The sound of a stampede of footsteps draws Louis’ attention and he looks up to see the back up he requested for arriving.

Most of the world leaders are out of the theatre, but Louis can see the stray Parliament member and occasional President of a country at the hands of one of the sleepers but he can also see that his fellow agents are attending to those situations.

After he’s sure he’s not missing anything vital, he turns back to Zayn who offers him a sheepish smile just as Liam shows up, draping an easy arm over Zayn’s shoulder as he fights to catch his breath.

Louis grows even more confused, glancing between the two of them.

Liam must realize how out of the loop Louis is because he gestures weakly to Zayn. “Deep, deep undercover agent,” he clarifies, patting Zayn briefly. “Known him since I was a boy. He trained with me.”

“You didn’t think to _mention_ that?” Louis asks in disbelief and Liam shrugs, looking a little regretful.

“Sorry,” Liam mutters, scratching the back of his head and Louis would roll his eyes if they weren’t in the middle of such a serious situation.

There’s blood on Liam’s arm, a cut that runs deep and Louis glares at him as soon as he notices it. He instructs Zayn to take Liam over to the medics, leaving no room for argument and the younger man nods, letting Liam lean against him as he heads for the stage.

It’s as he’s watching them go that Louis realizes with dread that Harry hasn’t been accounted for.

He spins in a circle, trying to find the curly haired man and doesn’t see him. He feels panic well up in his chest and he pushes it down, refusing to let his stress get the better of him right now.

Louis bites the inside of his cheek, eyes flicking back and forth as they take in the room. After a minute, he decides he can’t afford to waste his time like this and instead jogs over to where an injured businessman of China is lying.

He gently lifts the man over his shoulder, walking over to the stage and setting him down. He’s so focused on the task that he doesn’t notice the knife sinking into his arm until the businessman’s eyes widen and he stares in fear behind Louis’ shoulder.

Louis’ doesn’t hesitate before kicking his attacker roughly in the shin and then twisting around to land a punch and then he falters when he sees it’s Harry.

It only takes half a second for his instincts to kick in though and he hits Harry in the chest roughly. Harry staggers back a few steps, crashing into the empty seats and Louis uses that time to wrench the knife out of his arm.

He barely registers the pain before Harry is in his space again, pressing him against one of the broken splinters of a chair and he winces slightly, waiting for the punch that’s bound to come.

It doesn’t come.

Instead, Harry’s mouth crashes into his and Louis jerks in surprise, eyes flicking open but Harry’s are closed so Louis doesn’t _know_ , can’t _tell_ whether this is real or not. It’s pure instinct that takes over when he kisses back hesitantly, tasting peppermint on his tongue and it’s so achingly familiar that Louis wants to believe this is happening, that Harry somehow broke free and for a second, he lets himself have this.

Which is of course when Harry’s cold, lifeless eyes flick open and Louis' vision fades to black.

✿ ✿ ✿

“I think he’s finally coming back to life,” is the first thing Louis hears.

Louis opens his eyes slowly and stares up at an unfamiliar ceiling. He can feel IVs digging into his skin and he’s strapped to a bed. If that wasn’t enough, the distinct hospital smell infiltrates his nose and he huffs in disapproval, twisting his head to get a better grasp of his surroundings.

Liam is sitting beside him and when he sees Louis looking, he smiles timidly. There’s white gauze wrapped around his arm and a bandage on his forehead. Any other injuries are likely hidden by his clothing so Louis moves onto the next person in the room which is surprisingly, Zayn.

Louis squints at him, giving him a quick overview and sees not a single mark on his skin. Figures. Zayn offers him a small wave, eyebrow raised to which Louis merely nods as well as he can.

The last person in the room is Niall and the blond man is biting his nails, looking nervous. He has a bruise on his jaw that Louis remembers giving him and his head is also wrapped in gauze.

“Good morning sunshine,” Zayn breaks the silence, voice incredibly dry. “Have a nice nap?”

“Fuck off,” Louis replies and tries to sit up. Liam immediately moves to help him, tugging at the straps binding him to the hospital bed until they give. “What the fuck happened?”

Liam’s attempt at a smile turns into a grimace and he takes Louis’ hand in his, which is _never_ a good sign. Before his best friend can open his mouth, Louis cuts him off, the worst thoughts immediately populating his mind.

“Are we in hiding? Is the country in peril? Are other countries waging war on us? Is the Prime Minister dead? Is _Harry_ dead?” Louis asks, squeezing Liam’s fingers so tight he’s almost afraid he might break them.

Liam clearly shares the same worry because he wrenches his hand from Louis’, giving him an exasperated look. “None of those,” he clarifies, massaging his fingers with his other hand. “What do you last remember?”

Louis frowns and thinks back. He remembers the sleepers being activated, remembers throwing punches and kicks, remembers breaking Niall out of the brainwashing effect, remembers Zayn coming to him in surrender, remembers Liam and Zayn limping to the stage, remembers Harry kissing— _oh_.

“Harry kissed me,” he whispers aloud and then he turns to Liam wide-eyed. “Did I fuck everything up? Liam, did I fuck everything up?” he demands, terrified. This can’t be happening, not again.

“No, no,” Liam assures, pushing lightly at Louis’ chest. Louis hadn’t even realized he had leaned that forward, not until Liam’s hands began coaxing him back against the bed. “You didn’t fuck anything up. This one isn’t on you, I promise.”

Louis stares at him for a second, trying to figure out whether or not Liam is telling the truth before deciding that he is and leaning back on his own, sighing. “What happened, Liam?”

“He kissed you but he’d been wearing a poisonous lipstick. You passed out immediately and Harry and the rest of the sleepers who are still activated slipped away. MI6 sent some of our best agents after them and the rest of us relocated to the hospital. You’ve been in and out of it for the last three days but you never stay awake long enough to talk,” Liam explains, patting Louis’ arm gently. “We’ve been taking shifts watching you. It was Niall’s turn and he called us in when he saw you waking up.”

Niall is still standing in the corner, looking oddly anxious. He’s never seen Niall anything other than full of joy and it feels wrong to see him anything but. “Y’alright over there, Ni?” he asks quietly.

At the sound of his voice, Niall starts and blinks at Louis. “I—uh, yeah, I’m just—still trying to take everything in,” he admits, licking his lips nervously. “I just feel… really bad about everyone I hurt. And I’m worried about Harry and the others.”

Louis almost gets up to give Niall a hug but decides against it, instead trying for a comforting smile. “It’s not your fault, Niall,” he reassures and he sees Liam nod in agreement out of the corner of his eye. “You snapped out of it pretty quick.”

“I nearly strangled the Prime Minister,” is what Niall replies, looking queasy and Louis frowns at the younger man, unsure what to do.

“Hey Nialler, let’s go grab a snack,” Zayn finally cuts in, eyes filled with muted sympathy and Niall nods silently, following Zayn out of the room.

That leaves just him and Liam and the second Louis is sure they’re alone, he starts pulling out the needles poking into his skin, ignoring the beeping of the monitors next to him.

Liam doesn’t even try to stop him, just watches him with accessing eyes. When Louis steps onto the floor with shaky feet, Liam reaches out to steady him. “You’re going to find Harry,” Liam guesses.

“Yeah,” Louis agrees, doesn’t bother lying, not when Liam knows him better than anyone else. “Are you going to stop me?”

Liam snorts, giving Louis an incredulous look. “Can _anyone_ really stop you when you set your mind on something? And anyways, who am I to stand in the way of true love? Sophia’d skin me alive if she heard about this. If anything, I’m going to help you, idiot.”

Louis doesn’t think he’s ever been as grateful for Liam as he is right then. Without thinking about it, Louis pulls Liam into a tight hug, muttering, “Thank you,” into his shirt and Liam laughs quietly, squeezing his shoulders.

When they pull away, Liam smiles like he knows something Louis doesn’t which turns out to be the exact case. “I hope you’re not planning on chasing Harry in a hospital gown,” Liam teases and Louis looks down at where he is indeed wearing a hospital gown.

Before he can groan, Liam is handing him a pile of clothes and Louis thanks the Lord above for Liam Payne’s existence. “You’re a lifesaver,” he mutters, quickly tugging the jeans on.

“Keep your phone on,” is Liam’s reply, “and don’t you dare get yourself killed or something equally ridiculous. You hear me, Tommo?”

“I hear you,” Louis agrees, slipping his arms through the holes of a jumper and then patting his hair down for good measure. “Keep me updated, yeah?”

Liam hums in assent and Louis gives him another quick one-armed hug before he’s rushing out of the hospital room, twisting his head to look down the hallways on either side of him.

He sees Zayn and Niall coming back down one hallway and immediately sets off in the opposite direction. It’s only when he’s ducking into a corridor that he feels the stitches on his arm, undoubtedly from the wound inflicted by Harry’s knife.

Louis is more careful after that, not wanting to rip the stitches and give himself an infection. As he’s trying to find the nearest escape route from the hospital, he wonders where he should go first and decides on Walsh’s Ballet School because a lot of his weapons are still there. _So are Harry’s photographs_ , a tiny voice in the back of his mind reminds him.

He has to duck past a few more SIS agents before he makes it out into the broad daylight and hails a cab, sliding in and muttering out an address. Before they arrive, he thankfully finds a wallet in the back pocket of his jeans and he slides a tenner over to the driver and slips out.

Originally, he’d been ready to pick the lock but when he lightly pushes the front doors, they open easily and Louis narrows his eyes at that before deciding he should move quickly.

It takes him only a few minutes to get to his old room and quickly pack his stuff back into his duffle bag. He arms himself before doing anything else. After a while, he notices that Harry’s camera sits on his bedside table right beside the photos he’d developed. Louis takes both the camera and the photos, carefully placing them in his bag before tugging the zipper and closing it.

He swings the back over the shoulder of his good arm and leaves his room, heading towards the elevator before he thinks to stop by Harry’s room as well.

It doesn’t take him long to pick the lock and once he’s inside, he finds sparse belongings. Louis doesn’t see anything of substance, not until he sees a tiny journal halfway underneath the bed and he stuffs it into his bag without a second thought.

He’s halfway across the lobby when he hears a noise—it’s quiet, he probably wouldn’t have caught it was if he weren’t trained.

Louis doesn’t think before dropping his bag, slipping the knife out of his jumper sleeve and pinning the person to wall.

It’s only when he’s holding a knife to the person’s throat that he realizes it’s Melissa, staring at him with wide brown eyes, alert with fear. He doesn’t move the knife but rather smiles delightedly. Finally; someone who can give him answers about Harry.

“Hello,” he greets whimsically, pressing the knife closer further into her skin. A drop of blood rolls down Melissa’s neck and she whimpers quietly, biting her lip. “Are we going to do this the easy way or the hard way?”

“What do you want?” she asks, voice hoarse.

“I think you know,” Louis snaps, “but I’ll spell it out for you anyways. Where’s Harry? Where’s Mikhail?”

Melissa’s mouth falls open slightly at Louis’ use of Mikhail’s real name and Louis remembers the red crescent on Melissa’s wrist, remembers she’s as much a part of this as he is. “I—I don’t know,” Melissa stammers, trying and failing to twist her head away from the knife.

Louis glares at her, knife pressing insistently against her throat. Another drop of blood runs down her neck. “If you’re not going to give me anything useful, I _will_ kill you,” he informs, eyes hard. He used to be one of the agents who refused to kill, at the very beginning of his career but not anymore and especially not when the party is guilty. Not when they have information he wants. Not when they're what's standing between him and Harry.

It takes her a moment to realize he’s telling the truth and in that moment, he sees the fear in her eyes transform into something worse, into utter horror.

“Don’t, please,” she begs him and her voice is thick with unshed tears. “I never—I never signed up for this, I was an orphan here—I don’t—” she gasps for breath, hands clenching uselessly at her sides.

Louis considers her for a moment before leaning back, taking the knife away from her throat and instead switching it out for a gun before Melissa can regain her breath. He points at her, eyebrow raised in a dare and she only shakes her head, sinking to the ground.

“I—I walked into something I wasn’t supposed to when I was younger,” Melissa tells him, finally and her hands are shaking terribly, “He told me he would kill me if I didn’t—if I didn’t—” she swallows loudly and doesn’t finish her sentence.

Louis purses his lip, finger still locked on the trigger of his gun, wondering how much of what she’s saying is true. Finally, he decides he doesn’t care that much. He has other issues at hand. “If you’re telling the truth, I’ll make arrangements for you to join the witness protection program. Right now though, I want you tell me where the fuck Harry and Mikhail are or I swear to god, I’ll put a bullet in your head.”

Melissa makes a pitiful noise before she nods at him, holding a hand to her neck where there’s still a few dark beads of blood. “Witness protection program? You promise? He won’t be able to get to me?”

“I promise,” he agrees blithely.

“Birmingham,” she finally mutters, eyes cast downwards. Then she rattles off an address that Louis memorizes, before he nods and puts his gun away, leaning down to offer her a hand up.

She hesitates but then takes it, pulling herself up. He nudges her ahead of him and points her in the direction of the door and she does as she’s told, walking a few feet in front of him.

Louis texts Liam, asking for him to send a car over and then he and Melissa wait for ten minutes, her still holding a hand to her neck and Louis resting his own hand over where his gun is hidden.

When the car arrives, Louis gets in with Melissa and asks the driver to take them to the hospital where Liam waits out front for him to arrive. He unceremoniously asks her to get out and she does, stumbling over to Liam who raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything.

Louis has done much worse in the name of vengeance. Much, much worse. He’s not a nice person, never claims to be because he knows nice people aren’t in the profession that he is.

With those he cares about, he supposes he can be considered nice. He’s always been impossibly soft with his loved ones and perhaps that’s why he’s equally as rough with everyone else. Maybe he somehow used up all the love and compassion in his soul.

He’s never seen any reason to hurt those who’ve done him no harm but everyone else is fair game in his opinion. Some people deserve to be hurt.

(In his head, he sometimes thinks he’s one of them.)

✿ ✿ ✿

It takes him a little less than two hours to arrive at Birmingham after he drops the driver off and that’s only because he broke at least a dozen speeding laws on the motorway. He makes sure to let Liam know, who undoubtedly forwards the information to their base in Birmingham.

Louis parks the car just around the corner from the address Melissa gave him. He turns off the engine and gets out, checking the trunk of the car for the arsenal of weaponry he knows is hidden in every Secret Service agent’s car. He types the universal password into the keypad hidden behind a carpeted flap and the hidden compartment of the trunk opens up, revealing nearly fifty different gadgets, ranging from as small as his thumb to as long as the length of his arm.

He reloads his guns with new bullets before sliding a few clothed knives in the waistband of his jeans. He takes a moment to grab a harness because he knows he’s undoubtedly going to be scaling the side of the building in a matter of minutes. After a moment, he tucks a smoke bomb into his pocket and shuts the trunk with a slam.

It turns out he only needs five minutes to scale the warehouse and once he gets to the roof, he takes a cursory look around. His eyes catch a glint of silver and he turns his head in that direction, realizing it’s the entrance to the building’s air ventilation system.

His mind makes work of this information quickly, a plan formulating within a seconds. Louis glances around once more and sees a camera placed just a meter beneath the vent.

He walks towards the vent and stops right before he reaches the camera. He places one foot on the camera and bends down to pry open the entrance of the air duct with his knife. The metal clasp breaks easily enough and Louis smiles, satisfied. Before lowering himself into the air vent, he aims for the camera and breaks the glass with a silenced bullet.

He crawls through the ducts for a while, listening for any noises that might alert him to as where Mikhail is holding the sleepers. For a moment, he wonders if Melissa gave him the wrong information but then he hears just the barest whisper of noise and steels himself for the worst.

Louis leans over the nearest open duct and peers through the vents.

Below him is a fairly large room and he spots Mikhail almost immediately, spinning in a chair at the front of room with a dark look on his face. He’s spinning a knife between his fingers and Louis briefly hopes he messes up and ends up cutting off his fingers. It’s a gory thought so he dismisses it quickly, twisting his head to see if he can spot Harry instead.

It doesn’t take long, not when Harry is standing in the back of the room with Mikhail’s back to him, dressed in black from head to toe. He’s wearing a blank expression, staring straight forward at nothing. Even like this, he’s so beautiful that Louis feels as though there’s a dagger twisting in his own heart.

There are others there too—he sees Glenne, Camila and Cara as well as a few of the younger dancers that Louis recognizes but can’t name. Louis sighs as he realizes he can’t take on all of them by himself. He reaches his arm back, taking his phone out of his pocket very carefully before sending Liam a quick text that only says _back up !_ He doesn’t want to risk moving too much and having the vent creak underneath his weight.

After tucking his phone back in his pocket, he crawls further down the length of the air duct until he’s at a vent right above Harry, who remains stoically silent.

Just as Louis reaches in front of him to push open the vent, Mikhail says, “Harry,” and the young man’s expression becomes alert. “Stop sulking. It’s our responsibility to rid of the world of inefficient world leaders as the political espionage unit of the KGB. Poisoning a spy isn’t the end of the world.”

Harry doesn’t say anything in return but Louis could almost swear his face falls but it’s too imperceptible for him to really tell. Mikhail’s back is still turned on Harry and Louis decides it’s now or never. Surprise attacks always work, don’t they?

Louis pushes the metal duct open quietly and then takes a deep breath before lowering himself slowly until he’s hanging by just his fingertips. None of the sleepers have noticed him, still staring ahead at Mikhail who has yet to look back.

“So stupid,” Louis mutters under his breath, loud enough for just himself to hear before he lets go of the duct with a hand and reaches for one of his guns. Once he’s sure the gun is loaded and ready to fire, he jumps down, kicking Cara in the back while shooting Glenne in the shoulder.

He lands perfectly on the balls of his feet and still has the surprise effect going for him as some of the sleepers turn to him in surprise. He grins. This is going to be fucking fun.

His other hand quickly reaches for his other gun and without blinking an eyelid, he begins to shoot, making sure to aim for non-fatal parts of the body. At first no one reacts but then they launch into motion, staggered by their inflicted wounds.

Mikhail is standing at the front of the room now, grey eyes wide with outrage and Louis flashes him a quick grin before shooting Camila in the thigh. She lets out a blood-curdling scream and Louis remembers she’s only eighteen; the same age he was when he fell into this profession and it makes him sick for just a second before he pushes the thought away away and shoots Cara in the foot.

Just as Camila swings a fist at his face, the door to the far side of the room crashes open and SIS agents swarm in. Louis breathes a sigh of relief, ducks before Camila can hit him and then knees her in the stomach.

She keels over in pain and he sprints past her to where he can see Harry walking over to Mikhail. Before Harry can reach him, Louis tackles him to the ground, quickly pinning him down and straddling his waist as he struggles against him.

“ _Harry_ ,” he shouts in the younger man’s face, “Jesus fucking Christ, look at me, Harry. Stop fighting me. You _know_ me, Harry.”

Harry continues to struggle in his grip and Louis grits his teeth, tightening his grip on Harry’s wrists and pushing him into the ground. “Harry, you’re not listening to me,” Louis insists, futilely attempting to meet Harry’s gaze as the younger man squirms. “Baby, please, just look at me, yeah? It’s _me_ , it’s Louis. You know me.”

When Harry still refuses to look at him, Louis hisses in frustration, glancing around them to see all the other SIS agents occupied with containing the children sleepers without hurting them. Mikhail is being cuffed to his chair, a furious expression on his face. No one is paying any attention to the two of them.

Then a thought strikes Louis and he takes a moment to pray to anyone listening that his idea works. Carefully, he starts to hum the song Harry always hums, the one Louis is almost positive is the song that Harry’s mum used to sing to him when he was younger. He does it quietly at first before slowly, hesitantly humming louder and louder.

Harry stills in his grip and finally looks up at Louis, eyes cloudy and confused. “How—how do you—?”

“You know why,” Louis reminds, quelling the immense relief in his chest because clearly the humming isn’t enough, not when Harry’s thoughts aren’t clear. God, what the fuck did they _do_ to Harry that his brainwashing is this hard to break through? “You hum it all the time. You told me that your mum used to sing to you and it was this song, wasn’t it?”

“I told you about my mum?” he asks in confusion, “Why would I?” and then he struggles against Louis’ grip again, shocking him into nearly letting go.

Louis pushes him into the ground harder, the cold tiles digging into his skin through his jeans. “Because I’m _real_ , Harry,” he finally says, shouting to be heard over the sound of guns firing and Harry is watching him, eyes hazy. “Because I love you and I’m real, I’m right fucking here with you and I will be until the end. Do you hear me? I’m real and somewhere deep down, you’re real too and I need you to remember that. I love you and you love me and _we_ are real, Harry. We’re real.”

His heart nearly gives out when Harry blinks a few times and then it’s his lovely, clear lily pad eyes staring back at him. “Louis?” he breathes out and Louis lets out a dry sob of relief, letting go of Harry’s wrists to wrap his arms around his neck instead, hugging him tightly.

Harry’s limbs are slow to move but after a moment, he hugs back, arms wrapping tightly around Louis’ middle. “Louis?” Harry says again, clearly confused and Louis only shakes his head, burying his nose in Harry’s neck and breathing in the smell of roses. “What’s happening?”

“I love you,” Louis tells him, realizing he’s never said it to _this_ Harry, not when he was conscious. “I love you, I love you, I love you. God, I fucking _adore_ you. I love you.”

When he pulls back, there’s a look of surprise on Harry’s face but his eyes, his eyes are clear and they’re fucking lit up, brighter than any star could ever hope of being and Louis is so incredibly in love with him.

“I love you too,” Harry replies, almost dazedly and Louis smiles at him before leaning down to press a soft kiss to his slack lips. He almost considers kissing Harry for rest of his life when another gunshot goes off, making Harry start underneath him.

Louis leans back, surveying the room around them which is still in complete chaos. When he glances down, Harry is also taking in the scene with wide eyes, a faint look of terror on his expression.

“Come on,” Louis finally murmurs, standing up and offering Harry a hand. Harry takes it, getting to his feet and he’s so unsteady that he nearly falls over. Louis quickly reaches out with his other hand to steady him, making sure Harry has his balance before dropping his arm to his side.

He keeps holding Harry’s hand in his, intertwining their fingers and he realizes he can’t abandon his fellow agents, not right now but one look at Harry’s face tells him that he has to. Fuck everything else.

Louis makes a split-second and reaches in his pocket to pull out the smoke bomb. He can feel Harry’s eyes on him but he doesn’t dare look at him in fear of losing his nerve. He holds it to his face before using his teeth to rip the ring igniter out and then he throws it to the middle of the room, pulling Harry with him before he starts to run.

It doesn’t take long for Harry to figure out what’s happening and then the two of them start running wildly as the air runs out, smoke infiltrating the room. They make it to the door and Harry is staring at him in wide-eyed confusion that Louis can’t attend to, not right now.

He looks for the quickest escape route and finds it a safety exit on the opposite end of the hallway which he quickly tugs Harry towards, not giving the younger man a chance to ask questions.

The smoke alarm starts to go off nearby, easily covering the noise of the alarm that starts up once he pushes the door open. Even when they’re outside, Louis doesn’t slow down, running until they reach the car he parked around the corner.

He finally turns to Harry and he pulls him closer, crashing their mouths together. This time Louis doesn’t have to worry about whether this is real or not, because he knows it is, knows with everything inside of him that this is the most real anything will ever be.

Harry is the one to pull away, eyes fluttering shut and Louis gently tucks one of his stray curls behind his ear. “C’mon, love. We’ve got to go. I’ll explain everything in the car.”

After Harry nods, Louis holds the door open for him and lets him in before rounding the car and getting into the driver’s seat.

Before igniting the engine, he sends off a quick text to Liam, an _I’m sorry_ before he turns off his phone completely and starts driving.

They drive silently for ten minutes, Harry staring ahead with a faraway look in his eye but he’s still present and that’s what matters. Once Louis is on the motorway, he relaxes, taking a deep breath before turning to look at Harry.

“I love you,” is the first thing he says, the words spilling from his mouth and Harry’s lips pull into an immediate smile. Then he steels himself and declares, “Ask away.”

“I love you too,” Harry says before anything else and his fingers brush against where Louis’ hand rests on the stick shift. “What just happened?”

“You were brainwashed,” Louis starts off with, deciding it’s better to start with the worst first. He stares ahead, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel to the beat of whatever song is playing quietly on the radio. “Your whole life, you were trained to be an assassin by Adrian whose real name is Mikhail. They’re part of an organization called KGB and the section you were a part of is based off of the Red Room. It was a program started in the early 1900s, where they took young orphans in and under the pretense of teaching them ballet, they instead made them into assassins.”

Harry is silent now and when Louis glances his direction, the blood has drained from his face and he looks extremely nauseous.

Louis frowns but continues speaking, although his voice is quieter, “Mikhail did the same to all of you. He took you in as orphans and turned you into assassins to do his bidding. From what I’ve heard, you were the best of the lot, actually. I think your expertise in ballet was tied directly to how well of an assassin you were, hence why you were best at both.”

“How do you know any of this?” Harry finally asks, voice small. “Who are you?”

Louis takes a deep breath. “I’m Louis. Louis William Tomlinson. I’m an agent that works for MI6 and I went undercover as Alexander Sharpe at Walsh’s Ballet School for this mission.”

“You’re a spy,” Harry whispers and he stares despondently ahead. “Does that mean you’re not—we’re not—”

“No,” Louis replies immediately, shaking his head. “I told you, Harry. We’re real, okay? Even if nothing else is, I promise you that we are. I love you and that’s the realest thing I’ve ever felt.”

Harry inhales sharply but nods his head, shoulders relaxing slightly. “I—can you tell me the rest later? I’m really tired and my head hurts and I don’t…”

“Of course,” Louis agrees easily, reaching a hand over to squeeze Harry’s knee gently. “Take a nap. I’ll be here when you wake up. I promise.”

When he doesn’t receive an answer, he assumes Harry’s asleep already but then there are soft lips pressed against his cheek, fleeting but so incredibly sweet.

Louis knows there’s a flush settling high on his cheeks but he can’t bring himself to be embarrassed by it, not when he missed this, missed Harry’s sweet tendencies so much. He almost forgot what it was like to be caught off guard with a kiss so innocent.

✿ ✿ ✿

Louis doesn’t realize he’s driving home until he’s taking the exit off the motorway for Doncaster. It’s muscle memory and he wonders if he should turn the car around or not but then decides against it because he needs a place that’s safe for Harry and Louis doesn’t know a place safer than with his family.

When he pulls into his driveway, there are two small girls playing in the yard, throwing snowballs at each other. They stop when they see his car and they stare it curiously. Louis knows they can’t see him because the windows are tinted but he can see them.

The girls are Daisy and Phoebe, wearing matching hats and their cheeks are flushed red with exertion and happiness. He hasn’t seen them in five years outside of a computer screen and right now, they’re within ten meters of him.

Louis looks away, instead reaching over to gently shake Harry awake.

Harry’s eyes flutter and for a moment, Louis is irrationally terrified that they’re going to be cold and empty but then his eyes open and they’re clear and warm. “Where are we?” Harry asks drowsily, wiping his chin where there’s just the tiniest smidge of drool. Louis is far too enamored.

“Come and find out,” Louis teases, lips pulling into an easy smile and it shouldn’t be easy, not after everything they’ve been through but Louis has never questioned how easily his affection for Harry comes.

Harry looks at him curiously but nods. They get out of the car at the same time and Louis is distinctly aware of the two pairs of eyes watching them.

As soon as he turns around to face them, matching squeals fill the air, a shouted, “ _Louis_!” before the twins run across the yard and wrap him in a hug from either side.

“Hello, my loves,” he greets happily, leaning down to wrap his own arms around them. “How’ve you been?”

“We missed you so much!” Daisy shrieks in his ear just as Phoebe says, “Where have you been, you _twat_?”

Louis gasps for effect, turning his eyes on Phoebe. “And where did you learn that word?”

“Lottie,” they both say at the same time and burst into giggles.

Almost as if called, Lottie appears on the front porch, holding a hand over her eyes and squinting at them before her mouth drops open in surprise. “Louis Tomlinson, is that really you?” she shouts skeptically, already crossing the yard.

“The one and only, darling,” he sing-songs back and she’s laughing incredulously as she practically launches into his arms, the twins moving aside.

“Oh my God, I’ve missed you so much, you utter knob,” she says, arms tight around his neck and he rubs her back, burying his face in her hair. She’s so much taller than he’d expected and he’s once again hit with the reality that he hasn’t been home in five years.

“So you really have been teaching the twins this terrible language,” he makes himself scold and she snorts, pulling away to shrug mischievously.

She opens her mouth to say something but then her eyes land on something behind his shoulder and she raises her eyebrows in surprise. “Wow, first time back in years and you bring a fit boyfriend with you?”

Louis turns to glance at Harry who’s watching him with a fond look in his eyes but he’s clearly talking to the twins who must’ve gone up to him when Louis wasn’t paying attention.

“Have to keep you lot on your toes, don’t I?” Louis shoots back but there’s no real intent there, not when he sees Harry bending down on one knee to press a kiss to Daisy’s hand.

“He seems like a real charmer,” Lottie notes, wrapping an arm around his waist and Louis glances back to smile at her, nodding as he puts his own arm around her shoulders.

They stand there like that for a moment, the five of them until Harry starts to shiver and Louis remembers that Harry is still dressed like an assassin, in a tight black outfit that is undoubtedly made of thin material. “Babe,” Louis calls softly, dropping his arm around Lottie to unlock the backseat of the car and get his duffle bag out while still speaking to Harry over the hood of the car. “We should go inside. You’re freezing.”

Harry glances up at the endearment and then nods along to Louis’ sentence, getting to his feet again and rubbing his arms slightly as he walks over to Louis.

The twins race ahead of them, bounding through the door in excitement and Lottie follows in suit, although much calmer. He and Harry are the last ones inside the house and by the time they reach the door, Louis’ mum has showed up.

“Louis William Tomlinson!” she starts shouting before he’s even inside and he winces slightly as she hits him lightly wish a dish towel. There’s a streak of flour across her cheek and her eyes are lit up with happiness, even as she yells at him. “You’re going to show up here on your _birthday_ and not even have the courtesy to let me know?”

“My—oh. Oh fuck, it’s my birthday,” he mutters to himself in realization, licking his lips. The final performance had been on the 21st and he’d been in and out of consciousness for three days. It’s his birthday.

“Louis!” his mother reprimands, hitting him with the dish towel again. “Don’t swear in front of the girls!” and then she pulls him into a hug so tight that it’s a little difficult to breathe. He finds he doesn’t mind at all. “Do that again and I’ll have your head,” she threatens him quietly but it’s so fond that he doesn’t even consider taking her seriously.

“I missed you too, mum,” he murmurs into her hair and she sags against him, resting her head against her chest for a silent moment before she pulls away.

“I’ve got to go run out and buy a cake now,” she says and it sounds like an accusation but she’s grinning, shaking her head.

Louis opens his mouth to argue but then he’s cut off by a new voice joining the conversation. “I—um, I’m pretty good at baking birthday cakes if you’ve got the materials,” Harry stammers, looking nervous and Louis watches as his mum twists around in surprise.

She glances back at Louis, blinking rapidly. “Is this—the one that you… over the phone?” she asks gently.

Louis nods sheepishly and she brightens immediately, turning back to Harry and wrapping him in a hug as well before he can so much as protest. He looks shocked at first and Louis finds himself sadly wondering if this is the first hug he’s ever received from a mother figure in years. It probably is.

Harry is quick to hug back, if still a little shell-shocked and when his mum pulls back, she squeezes his shoulder gently. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Tomlinson,” he says quietly, blushing.

Louis is so endeared that he can’t help but to reach out to touch him, intertwining their fingers again. He sees his mother watching the motion from the corner of his eye but doesn’t meet her gaze.

“Call me Jay, darling. I insist,” she responds warmly. “You don’t have to bake anything, you’re a guest. I’ll just run out really quick and grab something. It’s fine,” she tells him before addressing Louis, “Dan’s out back shoveling and Felicite’s taking care of the twins. I’m not sure where the other girls have disappeared off to but you’ll be fine by yourself for the time being, right boo?”

Louis nods and she smiles at him again. “We’ll talk when I get back,” she promises him before she ducks back into the kitchen as the kettle goes off.

“You didn’t tell me it was your birthday,” Harry says after a moment and Louis turns to look at him. The younger man is pouting slightly, as if actually put-out by this information.  

“I genuinely forgot,” Louis swears before nudging Harry lightly. “I doubt we’d have had the time to celebrate anyways, what with you being essentially kidnapped by some Russian bloke who fancies himself a villain and me being in the hospital after a particularly poisonous kiss.”

Harry’s pout deepens and he _harrumphs_. Louis didn’t even know people did that in real life but of course, Harry Styles is quite the anomaly. “At Walsh’s, I used to bake everyone a cake on their birthday,” he divulges after a moment, still frowning.

“My mum would probably murder me if I let you bake in her house on Christmas Eve,” he informs, shaking his head fondly. “Come on, I think we’ve got a bit to talk about it.”

Harry sighs deeply as though this pains him but nods and follows Louis up the stairs. Louis heads for the guest room and as he walks through the hallway, he sees his old room is now inhabited by Lottie who doesn’t glance up at the doorway as the two of them pass, eyes focused on her phone. It’s strange how much has changed in his absence.

Louis locks the guest room door behind them before quickly unzipping his duffle bag and looking for a change of clothes for Harry to wear. He’s surprised none of his family members have commented on Harry’s outfit but he assumes that the shock of him being home must’ve been enough to distract them.

He finds a shirt that’s a bit too large on him and a pair of sweats that always hangs low on his hips. He tosses both to Harry who catches them, murmuring, “Thank you,” as he starts to get dressed. Louis is about to close the bag when when he sees Harry’s camera and journal, tucked into the side of his bag and pauses. After a moment of deliberation, he takes both out and then zips the bag closed again.

By the time he turns around, Harry is dressed and looks a lot more relaxed. “Smells like you,” Harry says after a moment, the hint of a smile tucked into his lips.

Louis rolls his eyes exasperatedly but his heart skips a beat at the younger man’s words. “Want these?” he asks, holding the camera and journal out.

Harry’s mouth parts in surprise once he sees what Louis is holding and he immediately nods, reaching out for them. Louis hands them over and then sits down on the bed, patting the spot beside him.

He almost expects the flash of the camera that goes off a second later and Harry smiles sheepishly before sitting down beside Louis. “Tell me everything now?”

And Louis does.

He tells him about the mission from the beginning, tells him about the red-eyed stranger who turned out to be Harry, tells him about his absolute _failure_ at learning the art of dance (and it’s the only time Harry giggles throughout Louis’ entire explanation), tells him about the things he learned along the way,  tells him about how he’s never given his real name out on a mission before; not until Harry, tells him about the night he found out the brainwashing, tells him about how Harry had forgotten their past, tells Harry about the final performance, tells him about the fight, tells him about the kiss, tells him about how the lines of what was real and what wasn’t started to blur, tells him how he left the hospital in search of him and tells him that how grateful he is to have found Harry and been able to break through his brainwashing.

Harry seems to grow more and more squeamish as Louis talks but each time Louis stops, Harry asks him to continue.

By the end, Harry nods and rests his head against Louis’ shoulder. His hands are shaking and Louis holds them in his steady ones, pressing a kiss to the side of Harry’s head.

“But we’re alright, yeah? We’re here and I’m going to keep you safe and I promise you that you’ll get through this in one piece,” he tells him quietly. “No one is ever going to hurt you again.”

Harry laughs but the sound is choked.

Louis frowns before thinking of an idea, that’s slightly selfish but the only idea he has. “Do you want to hear my story? How I got into espionage?”

Harry gives him a side look, considering his expression before he shrugs. “If you want to tell me it, then I’d love to hear it.”

Louis takes a deep breath and he vaguely remembers a thought he’d had at the beginning of the mission; of settling down, telling someone everything, having them realize he’s fucked up and loving him anyways.

It seems that today today is that day.

“When I was eighteen, I left Donny because I was an insolent teenager with not a brain cell in my head. I think my exact words were, ‘you can’t keep me locked up in this hellhole forever!’ which was really, really terrible of me,” he says and the words leave a bad taste in his mouth even now. “My mum was doing the best she could, raising five children and I had to no right to act the way I did but she let me go. I guess she knew it was the only way I’d learn.”

Louis licks his lips uncertainly as he remembers the next part. “I moved into a shitty flat in Manchester, lived there for a month before I ran out of money. The bloke that lived in the flat next door offered me a job, told me all I had to do was drop something off for him. I agreed because it didn’t seem like that much of a hardship. The next day he handed me a package, told me an address and I was off. When I arrived at the address, some bloke showed up and handed me a load of bills and it was _a lot_ of money. More than I’d ever seen before.” He takes a shuddering breath. “I—I was young and I was stupid and I thought that maybe I’d get away with sneaking some of the money away. Such an idiot, I was.”

“What happened next?” Harry asks quietly as he plays with Louis’ fingers.

“I got shot,” Louis responds, voice just on the underside of bitter. “I’d made it all of five feet before someone shot me in the leg and the other bloke bolted from the scene. I’d always been a fast runner so instead of calling the police like a sane person, I took off in the other direction and my leg was on _fire_ but the adrenaline was so much I didn’t even notice. I somehow made it back to my flat, I gave my neighbor most of the money and went to the hospital.” Louis doesn’t realize he’s tracing the scar the bullet left behind until Harry leans over to touch as well, just below Louis’ kneecap.

“And then?” Harry prompts gently.

“I came back to my flat completely trashed and then someone was holding another gun to my head. I didn’t think before I acted, turned around and slammed the stranger against the wall before taking the gun for myself. I’d never held a gun in my life but I somehow managed to pull the trigger that day, shooting this bloke I’d known for all of two minutes in the arm.” Louis winces now, remember the boy’s cry of pain. It had been a boy, he realized only later. Maybe not that older than him. “I didn’t—I didn’t know what to do with him though and he bled out on my floor while I watched on, terrified.”

This is the part where Harry is supposed to tell he’s fucked up—he waits but it never comes. Instead Harry watches him with patient eyes.

Unsure what to do, Louis decides to continue his story although his voice is practically a whisper now. “Some more blokes came into my apartment then and at that point, they could’ve shot me and I wouldn’t have cared. I was so numb.” He can remember it with the utmost clarity, remembers rocking back and forth on the floor, just a meter from a pool of blood when three men in black suits broke through his door. “They didn’t though. Shoot me, that is. Instead, they grabbed me and tossed me into the back of a van. I figured they were taking me somewhere to cut off my head or summat but they were taking me to the MI6 headquarters. God, what a shock that had been.”

“I can only imagine,” Harry murmurs, shaking his head slightly.

Louis lets the corner of his mouth twist up into what could be a smile if he put in a little more effort. “They didn’t know what to do with me. I’d seen too much. Eventually, they made me take a few basic civil service entry exams and then tossed me into an in-depth interview in front of a bunch of SIS officers. Something I said or did must’ve impressed them because I was in training the next morning.”

Then he sits and waits for the blow that never comes.

“You’re real,” Harry says eventually, leaning back to meet Louis’ eyes. “You’re human and we all make mistakes that we wish we could take back. Yours don’t make you a bad person. It makes you real.”

Louis laughs uncertainly, shaking his head. “I’ve done terrible things, Harry. I’ve hurt people. I’ve _killed_ people.”

“So have I,” Harry counters although he looks brackish at the the thought. “You still love me, don’t you?”

“Yes, but—” Louis starts to protest and Harry shakes his head fiercely.

“No buts,” he interrupts. “I love you and you love me and our past is our past. Okay?”

Louis stares at him hard, taking in his earnest expression and then after looking in Harry’s eyes, Louis realizes Harry needs this as much as him. This validation. “Okay,” he agrees finally, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth.

“Okay,” Harry repeats and meets him in the middle for a gentle kiss that somehow answers all of the questions Louis didn’t even know he was asking.

✿ ✿ ✿

For a long time, being a secret agent was everything in Louis’ life. He’d made it his all or nothing. It’s why he’d been so disappointed with himself after Bulgaria. Why he’d been so focused on not messing up this mission.

As his family gathers around him to sing happy birthday and watch him blow out twenty-four candles, he thinks that maybe being a secret agent isn’t everything anymore.

And then he thinks that maybe it never was.

“What if I stay with SIS? With MI6?” he asks Harry that night, the darkness making it easier for him to ask. Neither of them can sleep, not after what’s happened this past week.

“Then I’ll follow you around the world,” Harry murmurs back and even in the faint moonlight, Louis can pick out each galaxy hidden in his irises. “We’ll be alright.”

“What if I don’t?” he asks in return.

“Then you and I are going to settle down somewhere and figure out what to do with our lives. We’ll still be alright,” Harry answers without missing a beat.

“And you’re okay with either one?” Louis wonders, oddly nervous.

“I love you enough to move to Antarctica and become friends with some penguins, Louis,” is Harry’s response, an exasperated tone to his voice. His lips are quirked up with mirth.

“That’s oddly specific,” Louis shoots back and Harry simply shrugs. “I love you too, though. Loving you is the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

And it’s true. There have been times when Louis has absolutely loathed his job, even as much as he loved it for giving him a purpose. He’s always been an on-field agent and he’s been fine with that, more than content with going undercover and taking on a fake identity and then going in guns blazing or sneaking poison into someone’s drink when they weren’t looking.

It’s his job and he’s good at it but it’s never been easy. It’s always been an incredible weight on his shoulders but loving Harry isn’t like that. Even when it was hard, it was still the easiest thing he’s ever done.

Loving Harry makes everything else seem insignificant in comparison.

Even though Harry can’t hear his thoughts, he smiles like he knows and that’s more than enough.

✿ ✿ ✿

// **THREE MONTHS LATER** //

“You’re sure about this?” Louis asks and Harry nods for the umpteenth time, squeezing Louis’ hand in reassurance.

“You seem more nervous than me,” Harry teases, raising his eyebrows and his cheeks dimple with the onslaught of a grin.

Louis sticks his tongue out in reply, far too immature for his age but Harry just giggles in reply.

There’s a lot Louis should be doing right now, of which includes memorizing ten pages of a script for a small play for the neighborhood, paying the heating bill and calling Liam up to set up a picnic.

Instead, he’s sitting in a tattoo parlor with his boyfriend, watching with unveiled interest as the girl beside them, named Maddie according to her name-tag, sterilizes her equipment, readying to tattoo Harry.

There are things Harry should be doing too, coursework for his photography classes at uni or picking up a spare shift at the bakery down the street from their flat, maybe even singing at the pub that they frequent with Niall almost every weekend.

Instead, they both made time in their admittedly busy schedules to fit this appointment in. It’s something Louis always knew Harry would do, if only at the back of his mind, but seeing it happen before his eyes is something else entirely.

“I’m proud of you,” Louis tells him, eyes trained on the tattoo artist Maddie who’s now inking Harry’s skin. Harry doesn’t reply but Louis can tell from the way Harry’s grip tightens that he’s grateful for the words.

Their lives are incredibly different from what they used to be but Louis thinks it’s for the better. He left the agency the week following his birthday and the only person he apologized to was Liam who had shaken his head exasperatedly and pulled him into a hug.

“I always knew this wasn’t what you were going to spend your life doing,” Liam whispers like it’s a secret, “and I’m glad you know that now too.”

Louis had done his best to hide his sniffles but he knew Liam noticed away, even if he didn’t comment on it. Instead Liam said, “We’re going on double dates, alright? Me, you, Sophia and Harry. Promise me right now.”

“Promise,” Louis had agreed and that was that.

He and Harry moved into a small flat in Manchester, not far from Liam’s and Niall and Zayn followed in suit. The other dancers all spread out across England but not before they all swapped contact information and promised to keep in touch. Some of them even took the time to thank Louis for everything before leaving, which he adamantly refuses he did not cry because of, although Harry will beg to differ.

Most of them still attend therapy sessions for the damage done to their mental physique and Louis takes Harry to his own session every week, wishes him good luck with a chaste kiss and then shows up again when the session is over to take Harry out for the dinner at their new favorite restaurant, a small Italian place a few blocks from their flat.

It’s hard but it’s getting better.

The agency let Louis go easily enough but not before promising him a life of safety. He doesn’t know how they plan to carry through with that but for now, it seems it’s by sending him a monthly check worth more than everything he owns. He doesn’t complain about it.

Louis still keeps firearms in the flat, hidden away in a box that’s left under the bed, and they don’t speak about it but it helps Louis sleep better at night.

He and Harry build a life for themselves and it’s nothing Louis ever hoped for but somehow everything he needed.

The tattoo takes half an hour and Louis watches, fascinated as Harry shows again just exactly how strong he is. Every day Louis thinks he can’t fall more in love with Harry than he already is and each day, Harry proves him wrong.

Once it’s done, Harry stands up shakily and Louis steadies him as always. He will never stop being what keeps Harry grounded, anchored. Not if he has a choice in the matter.

“Thank you,” Harry tells him, smiling widely and then, almost as if he can’t help it, he says, “Love you.”

Louis beams at him, squeezing his waist gently. “Love you,” he replies before glancing down at Harry’s tattoo, right across the front of his feet. It’s perfect, he thinks to himself. The end of one chapter and the beginning of another.

Louis was a spy and Harry was a dancer and now they're neither. Instead, they're here, they're real and they're in love with each other. That's all they ever need to be.

 ** _NEVER GONNA DANCE AGAIN_**.

**Author's Note:**

> First, [here](http://lourrynavy.tumblr.com/post/136976519542/hiii-first-of-all-i-wanted-to-say-i-really-really) is clarification on Harry's character and a glimpse into his side of this story. It contains MAJOR spoilers so please don't read until you've finished the fic! 
> 
> Feel free to [say hi to me on tumblr](http://lourrynavy.tumblr.com) or [say hi to me on twitter](http://twitter.com/couldbealright) and tell me what you thought of this because it always makes my day to hear from you! Comments and kudos are also very, very appreciated. Sorry for the emotional rollercoaster and I hope you all enjoyed. <3


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